iNeed You More
by Xxajanae97xX
Summary: UPDATED-Sam's struck with a childhood loss. But as she loses one friend she gains back another. Only...is it really how she wanted it? Sam and Freddie's story continues...
1. Tired and Uninspired

**A/N: Ah, it feels so good to be back in the wonderful community of FFNet, and back in Nick ships. I got this idea after watching iThink They Kissed, thinking "what would it be like if it were just Sam and Freddie? Despite what they think, they have a really close friendship, and I wonder how closely I can portray that." This is gonna be a long fic, and I've already mapped out how I want it to end. So---you know what, I'm just gonna let you guys read since this is pretty long. Shutting uuuupp....NOW.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own iCarly. Schnieder does. No, not my Journalism teacher, Dan Schnieder: Nick genious. **

* * *

Freddie didn't have to walk far to Carly's door, so he was within her reach the second Spencer called his cell.

"Hey Freddie, come on in," greeted Spencer.

"Thanks," he stepped inside the more-than-familiar apartment before Spencer closed the door. "Is she still freaking out about Tristan?"

Unfortunately he was referring to Carly's recent boyfriend--or currently her recent ex-boyfriend seeing as how he broke up with her the day before. It wasn't the breakup rather the irony that stung, considering he broke up with her AFTER being caught making out with another girl at Groovy Smoothie, and after sucking the face of said girl, he ended the blow with the horrible cliché "I think we should see other people," and attempted to console her with: "Don't worry, we can still be friends."

Freddie wanted to kick his ass when he found out--not butt, ass. That's how angry he was. Unfortunately he didn't get the chance, because after Sam witnessed it she not only shoved the strawberry smoothie down the girl's bra, she blessed Tristan with two black eyes and a swirlie that resulted in the Groovy Smoothie employees declogging his head from the toilet for hours. In Sam's words "that douchebag got what he deserved and a hella lot more."

"Yeah," replied Spencer. "Poor kid won't stop. You know those three hour showers she takes when she's upset?"

"Yeah."

"She changed it to five hour _baths_, and she put her PearDoc near the ledge to sulk in Taylor Swift music."

Freddie pressed his lips together in commiseration. "Aw man, really?"

"Yeah. There's nothing I could do for her so that's why I called you guys to maybe fix her funk."

"Wait," he paused. "When you say _you guys_…"

Without warning the front door swung open and the blonde fierceness that was Sam Puckett stomped into the apartment. "How's Carly? Do we need to break down her room door 'cuz I'm wearing my special Converses today."

Spencer shifted his eyes suspiciously between Sam and the door. "…I thought I locked that door…"

"Sam," greeted Freddie in his mockingly formal tone.

"Fredward," she replied while routinely punching him the shoulder, which has now become ineffectual to him. "So where's our Carly?"

"Still feeling horrible according to Spencer."

"Yeah, she's up in her room now," he interjected.

Both Freddie and Sam exchanged glances before moving their eyes toward the stairs. "Weeellp," sighed Sam as she squared her shoulders, "let's go de-horrify her. Come on, Freddie," and she grabbed him by the forearm to drag him to the elevator.

"I don't need to be handled, Sam," Freddie groaned.

"Oh yeah you do," she informed while pushing the button to the second floor, "Cuz when Carly gets distraught she's known to throw things, and you're flabby man chest will be the perfect human shield while we're in the line of fire."

"Hey! Need you know I've been working out this summer?" which to anyone else wouldn't have been so unconvincing. Puberty transformed Freddie to become somewhat wide in the chest, and when he started making weight lifting bets with Spencer, he began to bulk more in the necessary areas. It wasn't a total shocking transformation, but it was enough to never allow Carly to pin him down again.

She knocked on his stomach once they stepped in the elevator. "I'll believe that once I start to feel some steel against my knuckles."

Within a couple of seconds, the elevator ended its transition to the second floor and opened its doors to lead down a narrow hall—similar to the hall outside the iCarly studio. The two stepped out simultaneously and headed for Carly's door.

"You know, it's eerie," whispered Freddie for an unknown reason considering the only person he was talking to was right next to him. "I visit this place constantly yet I've never seen Carly's room."

"Pssh, as it should be, Fredweirdo. You're a boy and a dork, which automatically disqualifies you from special room-viewing privileges," Sam stated matter-of-factly.

"I didn't know there were any _special room-viewing privileges_." He added air quotes around the phrase while trying—failing, rather—to impersonate her voice, seeing as how he only added a raspier tone to his own.

"Hence the disqualification, duh." They ended their back-and-forth routine once they stood in front of Carly's door. Freddie was about to knock, but Sam grabbed his fist mid-air.

"Nuh uh," she whispered. "Let me handle this."

"But—

"Shh!" She let go of his knuckles and reached in the depths of her blonde curls for a bobby pin. Grabbing the hair accessory-turned criminal tool, she stuck it in the tiny hole of the door knob and began to twist it around between her fingers. To anyone else it would have seemed she was attempting a mediocre break in, but Freddie saw the technique. Her ear was tilted toward the knob, and she moved her fingers rhythmically—once to the left, twice to the right, and once to the left again—so the bobby pin would click in the right places. Then when the final turn was made, she smiled—goal accomplished—and stuck the pin back in her hair.

He would never admit it, but how she always did that was an art form to him. "You gotta show me how to do that one day."

"Nah, momma's gotta keep some secrets up her sleeve. And besides, it'd be pretty weird for a guy to carry a bobby pin in his hair…even weird for you." And with that she turned the knob and swung open the door.

At first they weren't able to spot her, but Freddie tapped Sam's shoulder once he caught Carly staring absently at the Seattle view from her window seat. He nudged his head in Carly's direction and raised his left eyebrow questioning their next move. Sam replied with another nod toward Carly, rolled her eyes while pressing her lips together, and raised both eyebrows twice while nudging her head backward. To anyone else it was just a compilation of meaningless head gestures, but Freddie and Sam had this inexplicable body language communication thing that had evolved from mere glare shots to five minutes worth of serious dialogue, and he now was able to decipher these silent words as "yeah, she's not responding to our arrival so just stand by and let me handle it". The rolling of the eyes could have stood for "Benson" "Freddalina" "Fredduccino" or "Freddork", but that was irrelevant to the current situation.

"Hey Carls, how ya doooiin?" Freddie smirked at Sam's failed attempt at a conciliatory tone, but he frowned again when Carly didn't respond. She just sat there, knees raised against her chest in an upright fetal position, occasionally drawing X's through the hearts previously drawn in the fog on the window. It was indeed a sad image. Freddie never saw Carly in this state, mostly because in all her past relationships _she_ was the one to initiate the break up.

Sam started again. "It's your loveable best friend here…and the other not-so-loveable nub-like one, here to comfort youuu." She sat down across from Carly and rested her head on her knees. No response. "Alright. Your sulking-in-silence-for-28-hours privilege will expire in 5…4…3…2…" She strung out the 2 to helpfully give Carly more time, but that was to no avail because in Carly's current state nothing existed but her finger and that fogged window.

Sam bit the corner of her mouth and rose on her knees. No more Mrs. Compassionate Puckett. She sandwiched Carly's cheeks between her palms and forced her to make eye contact. Freddie walked closer to Sam's side to witness.

"Alright Carls," she said ascetically. "What up?"

Freddie flinched when he saw Carly's expression. Her brows furrowed, her jaw clenched, and he could have sworn her irises changed from brown to straight onyx. "What up, Sam, really?" she used her menacing tone--Freddie didn't even know she had a menacing tone. "I just got dumped in a fast food restaurant by a guy I've dated for two months, and you wanna know what up with me?"

"Well...kinda. In our defense here you have made it past the 24 hour mark, and the world is still spinning, right?"

Carly rolled her eyes and stared back out the window.

"And," Freddie finally added, "I did warn you to stay away from bad boys."

Sam stared incredulously at Freddie. "Tristan Clark a bad boy, really? Okay, so in your definition a student body president and editor of the school newspaper is a bad boy, and someone who bites the head off chickens and breaks the law on a daily basis must be, what, the seed of Mother Theresa?"

"Well he was _bad_ for her, Puckett, god!"

"I'm just sayin, Benson--"

"Would you two shut your bickering for like, two seconds!? This isn't exactly helping me, you know."

As ordered, the bickering ceased and both turned back to their distraught friend. "Sorry," they said, another simultaneous action on their part.

"Look, Carly, the dude was a Grade A douchebag, and if I could have seen it coming I would have warned you and kicked his ass a long time ago."

"Yeah, me too."

Of course, Sam smirked in Freddie's direction. "I'm gonna hold off on my necessary and absolutely hilarious comment for the sake of our friend here."

Freddie, knowing the blow was gonna come soon, rolled his eyes and pulled up a chair near Carly and provided a small gesture of comfort by wrapping his arm around her shoulder.

"Carly, look, we know this is hard for you right now. So...if you want us to we can leave right now, and let you clear your head for a while." Sam shot her eyes straight toward his and clenched her jaw, translating into "Dude! We're just gonna leave? There was no breakthrough or nothin!" He just shot a stern one back saying, "It's called reverse psychology, so work with me here."

"Look, I'm not sure what message you're transmitting through your brains," started Carly again, to her friends' relief her tone was normal, "but I get it; you don't have to put up with my pessimism if you don't want to." But right after saying that she laid her head on Freddie's shoulder, clearly contradicting her statement. Freddie smiled, enjoying her warmth even though her hair cluttered his face with its entangled wildness. "It's just..." she started venting, "I thought we were so perfect, you know? He was so gentle and kind, so I thought it'd be impossible for him to break my heart."

Sam scooted closer to her best friend. "Well it's always the kind and gentle ones you have to look out for."

"Hence why you always date the rude and obnoxious ones, right Sam?" Freddie mused.

"Eeexaclty," she leaned back and grinned. Of course to Sam Puckett that would be a compliment on choice of men.

Carly, now distracted from her grief and engaged in the current topic, giggled and tapped Freddie on his other shoulder. "Remember when we went on that group date and she brought Neko Henderson to the movies with us?"

Freddie bit the side of his mouth, wiped his hand and over his face and raised an eyebrow at Sam. "Yeaaah, Neko the Freako, how could I forget? He kept shoving chocolate chips up his nose and when I told him to be quiet during the movie he poured his coke down my pants."

Sam smirked. "Yah, so?"

"It was an extra large Coke, Sam!"

She leaned back in her nostalgia. "Oh me and Neko...good times...good times..."

"He was the worst, Sam," said Carly once her laughter died down.

"Oh, Carls, I think under current circumstances your guy won the Worst Boyfriend in History nomination."

"Ah-to the-men." praised Freddie.

Carly huffed out a sigh, Freddie expecting a burst of tears to soak his polo, but she relieved both her friends when she smiled. "He is so not my guy anymore… You know he's been pretty sick the last couple of days? I wouldn't be surprised if that skunkbag caught something from him the way her tongue was massaging his throat."

"That must be one flexible tongue..." uttered Sam, slightly disturbed at the developing mental image.

Freddie gave Carly an affectionate shoulder-rub. "What you need to do is look out for the real good guys. They wouldn't break your heart like that."

Carly curved her lips as she glanced at Freddie at the corner of her eye. "One of the real good guys like you?"

He scoffed easily. "Well, I'm just one of many, Carly; you should know that by now."

It was easier to joke with Carly about their relationship once he decided to let his love go. It was easier to do a lot of things once he let go of that hope--that constant longing to be the guy that Carly needed. After Griffin failed and she dated again, Freddie just got tired of stringing himself along, of anticipating a day that was never going to come. Of course the things that made him love her in the first place were still there--her compassion, her sincerity, her inability to hurt people--but the passion was dormant now. He loved the first time that came when he could date someone else and not have his mind compare her to Carly. But even with this somewhat change of heart, Carly still never missed the opportunity to tease him about it.

"Oh please," interrupted Sam in the perfect moment, "Why would any girl want a doof like Benson over here?"

"The same reason why any guy would want the maniacal psychopath over here."

"This maniacal psychopath has the Seattle Mafia boss on speed dial so watch it, bucko."

"Pssh, nice bluff, Sam, but there is no such thing as the Seattle Mafia."

Sam dug up her phone from her ripped-jeans pocket. "Wanna bet?"

And amongst all of this, Carly smiled and wiped her tear-crusted face with her t-shirt. She thought nothing could make her smile again but here she was, laughing at the crazy aggressive relationship that was Sam and Freddie.

She loved her friends.

The sun set later in the afternoon, and Carly attempted to reach for her hair tie on her dresser but failed while flipping off the bed in the process. After murmuring incoherent PG rated curse words, she stumbled to her feet, wrapped her entangled chestnut hair in the hair tie, and made her way down stairs. It was later in the evening, and Freddie and Sam had headed home after Carly assured them she was okay. And she was. Tristan's blow still stung, and the hollow feeling still hung in her chest, but over all she was dry. The tears depleted all her H2O supply--which was why she was in desperate need of some water, and journeyed down the stairs to get some.

Spencer emerged from the refrigerator carrying a pitcher of iced tea. He grinned when he saw his little sister finally walk down from her room.

"I see someone has emerged from her super dark depressing mode of depression. How ya feelin, kiddo?"

Carly didn't feel like saying much since her voice was raspy and her thoughts were cluttered. "Better," she coughed and walked over to the kitchen sink to fill a left out cup with tap water.

"Awesome. So I guess you're over that Tristan guy, huh?"

Aaand the feeling was back again. She shot her brother a glare through the raised glass. Did he not know it was against the girl code to bring up the ex-boyfriend in casual conversation unless she did it first?

Spencer flinched back. "Yeah, um... I so didn't mean to uh...he's not even... It was just... Who we talkin about?"

Carly couldn't help but curve her lips at that. She placed down her glass, planning to take a much needed shower--this time to truly wash her body and not to sulk under bath bubbles and Taylor Swift music.

"Hey, hey, wait a minute--where ya going?" called Spencer.

"Shower, why?"

"No, you can't shower now we have--wait, didn't you just take a five hour bath a couple of hours a--nevermind. Anyway we have special compa--"

At that moment a tall and dark figure with what appeared to be a Navy uniform walked into the living room. "Wow, Spencer, your mannequin collection has...grown over the years."  
Carly gasped, jumped, and swung her head all in one weird simultaneous motion.

"Colonel Morgan!? You're like, here in Seattle!??"

During the only time he was able to let down his rough guard, Colonel Brandon Morgan smiled at his god daughter and opened out his arms.

"Yes I am. Now come and hug your commanding officer, private."

For the second time today Carly grinned widely and ran to hug her father's best friend. "Yes sir!"

They quickly embraced and he held her at arms length. "Wow Carly, you look..." he took a second glance at her disheveled hair, her puffy cheeks and her pale--on top of her already pale--skin. "Horrible. Did I catch you at a bad time--?"

"Oh my gosh!" Carly paused and panicked in Spencer's direction. "My hair! My clothes! My breath! Spencer why didn't you tell me Uncle Brandon was here!?"

Spencer furrowed his brow while pointing accusingly at his little sister. "B-but YOU said—I TRIED to—wait"

"Ugh I don't have time for this," she interjected while running back up the stairs. "I have to go make myself presentable!" But within another second she ran down halfway again. "Don't leave, I'll be right back."

While waiting for Carly, Spencer and Colonel Morgan made their way to the couch; Morgan sipped on his iced tea impatiently while rubbing the envelope in his hand. He had something very important to give to her.

"So I see there's an envelope in your hand." Spencer said to his god father.

"Yes, there is."

"Is it for me?"

"No, it's not."

"Oh, so it's for Carly?"

"Yes, it is."

"I see." He leaned back in the cushion, sniffing nonchalantly, trying to mask his disappointment, but only succeeding in making it fairly obvious—the classic Spencer Shay move. Colonel Morgan caught on to this and chuckled.

"Spencer, I—"

"No. no, no. No need to try to assuage me, I know the truth now, _Colonel_."

"But Spencer, you don't—"

"I know all I need to know!" and his voiced raised about an octave.

Colonel rubbed his chin, ready to be humored. "Ok, Spencer, what do you know?"

"I'd rather not say; it's too painful to utter."

Giving up in defeat, Colonel began to reach in his duffel bag. "Well, in case you didn't know—"

"What, that Carly's your favorite!? Oh trust me, dear uncle, I've had my suspicions over the years but this confirms it! I just can't believe you would—"

"Can't believe he would what?" Carly returned and hurried over to the couch. Her appearance was a day-and-night transformation. She sported black knee-cut leggings, a long American Flag tank top and straight chestnut hair instead of the former tousled birds nest.

"Oh nothing," said Spencer. "Just that he would give you such an awesome present. Go ahead, Colonel, show Carly what you got her but couldn't afford to get me—the first born."

Carly heard the underlying tension but because it was Spencer she decided to ignore it. Instead she turned directly to her god father. "Yeah, what'd you get me??"

Colonel Morgan smiled and finally removed the papers from the manila envelope. He poured them onto her hands and placed the envelope on the table. Carly's eyebrows lowered slightly. "You got me papers…how…awesome of you." But Spencer just smirked again and regained his amusement. "Yeah, glad I didn't get anything after all."

"No, Carly," pointed their uncle to the top paper, "it's not just any papers. They're brochures."

"Brochures to what...?" She picked up the first brochure and began reading its information. She smiled as she read the translation under the kanji. "_Kagoshire Academy…newly accredited high school in Okinawa, Japan…now offering integration for American students_." She turned to Colonel Morgan. "Wait—isn't Okinawa where you and Dad are stationed?"

He smiled again. "Yep. The Japanese Navy commander offered this opportunity to us navy officers for their children. They really want Americans attending their school."

Carly was smart enough to put two and two together. "So…Dad wants me to attend?" Spencer, too, was now interested in the brochure, forgetting his previous tantrum. He grabbed the second brochure which had photographs and floor plans of the campus and classrooms.

"Yes," answered Colonel. "But it's only for a semester. Orientation begins next week, but they're only accepting American students with a GPA of 3.5 or higher. They're also recruiting teachers and professors from American universities, so the whole language barrier won't be a problem."

Spencer turned the pages of the brochure. "Their campus does look really nice, kiddo. And your GPA is at 3.7 right now. Maybe you should…"

But Carly couldn't really comprehend much after "for a semester". For a semester translated into "five months away from Seattle, and five months away from Sam, Freddie, Spencer…

But also five months without having to face Tristan after their breakup.

…She gave the brochures another look.

* * *

**A/N: Alright so as far as I know, each chapter is going to be this average length, so please comment on whether you think it's too long or not. If you've read my other stories--which I'm not gonna tell you what they are because that, people, is YOUR job (evil laugh)--then you know I'm a big fan of dialogue, and I will watch every episode of a show just to get the characters personality and mannerisms right. I can't STAND for things to be OOC, and if you make at least one action of a character OOC I will not read your story. That may sound harsh, but I think Dan Schnieder does an awesome job at developing characters and one day I plan on writing for Nick, so I take this as seriously as I can. But besides that, I love humor, so tell me if I did enough of that. Make sure you check my profile, for I will update it regularily, and give you sneak peeks of what's to come. Also, I will end these lil chappies with cool Nick news--b/c I'm sure all of you have noticed the new changes. **

**NFF (Nick Fun Facts):**

**-Take a look at the new Nickelodeon logo, then take a look at the ORIGINAL one in 1885. Don't they look similar?**

**-Here's some new shows to be aired in 2010 (besides Big Time Rush):** **Victorious (with Victoria Justice), Kung Fu Panda--YES they're making it a CGI cartoon, Monsters VS Aliens--again, they're making it a CGI cartoon, and Planet Sheen--a spin off of Jimmy Neutron. Tell me also what you think of these. **


	2. I Dare You To Move

**A/N:** **Wow, 2-Day update, my personal best. Note for you guys: when you say "update soon" I take that literally, so never expect my updates to be two weeks apart, and if they are I will notify you ahead of time. I can't allow myself to have updates that long because then it interrupts my flow and I lose focus. And, as mentioned, this chappie's just as long--if not a tad longer--than the first. But expect there to be no more Carly after this--well, atleast for a while =]**

**DISCLAIMER: -sings- I do not I do not I do not own iCarlaaayyy, I do not I do not I do not no no noooo**

* * *

Sam walked over to their usual Groovy Smoothie table and placed the large basket of fries in the center.

"You see Carly come in yet?" asked Freddie grabbing for a fry.

Sam reciprocated the action and chomped down on two of them. "Nope. You?"

"Nope. Which I think's pretty weird. I mean, she's the one to text us telling us to meet her here, you'd think she'd be..." he lingered off when he noticed Sam oddly dipping a French fry in her strawberry smoothie.

"What are you doing?"

Sam paused from chewing. "Consuming food, duh."

"_I see that_, but why are you dipping them in your smoothie like that?"

She licked her fingers. "Because it tastes like awesome."

Freddie grimaced. "But you're basically dipping a salty potato into cold fruity liquid and I don't see what's so--"

Sam shoved a smoothie covered fry right in his mouth to silence him, and it certainly did its task. Freddie was prepared to spit it out but once it was half way down his throat he had to chew the remnants and swallow. His eyes widened and he licked his lips. "Wow that does taste like awesome."

"Ehh?" Sam smiled as they indulged in more. Freddie paused after the last one. "Wait... What were we talking about?"

"It does have that effect on people." Sam sighed and reached for another one.

About a minute into their smoothie-fry consumption, Freddie noticed the restaurant's doors open and Carly walking in. "Hey," he iterated through chomping teeth, "Carly's here."

"I know," she replied, never pausing between fries, "I can see her in my peripheral vision."

"Hey guys," greeted Carly as she sat. "Sorry I'm late."

"Uhhhuh." _One fry for Sam…_

"What took you?" _Another fry for Freddie…_

"Oh, I had to help Spencer find the remote. You know how sad it is that we can spend hours trying to find a remote when the buttons to turn the TV are right on it?"

"Uhhhuh." _One fry for Sam…_

"So sad." _Another fry for Freddie…_

Carly stared inquisitively at the two. "Um, Freddie?"

"Yeah?" _Another fry for Freddie…_

"Why are you dipping your French fries in Sam's smoothie?"

He smirked before dipping another one. "Because it tastes like awesome."

"Told ya," Sam added.

Again, all Carly could do whenever her two friends did something odd was laugh and shake her head. "You two are so weird, I swear."

"Hey," Freddie pointed a fry in her direction. "You do not have the privilege to insult us, Miss Shay."

"Yeah," chimed in Sam after taking an actual sip of her smoothie. "Aren't you the one who told us to meet you here because there's something—" she took a quick glance at her phone, "—_mega vital_ you have to tell us?"

The drop in Carly's smile was evident. "As usual, you got me…" but she trailed off from there. Freddie and Sam nudged forward. "_So…_?" they both urged.

She averted their gaze and combed a part through her hair while chewing on her tongue. After quick deliberation she sighed and let it go. "Okay…so you remember a couple of days ago when my Uncle Brandon came over?"

"The Navy officer, dude."

"Yeah," added Freddie. "We remember."

"…Well, he really wants me to…he gave me this…" She reached in her purse instead and handed them the same brochure she looked through. "Well, here. You guys see for yourselves."

Sam and Freddie exchange their "what's Carly up to now" glance, but instead of arguing, they looked through the brochure together.

"Okay, why is this all in Japanese?"

"The translation is right over here, Sam."

"Where?"

He pointed to a specific spot on the laminated paper. "Here."

"Well maybe I could see it if you'd move you fat finger out the way."

He snatched the paper away. "You know what, just lemme read it: _Kagoshire Academy…newly accredited high school in Okinawa, Japan…now offering integration for American students_." Sam creased her temple as he read more. "It says here…they're offering this to children of the American Navy officers—"

"Gimme that," for some reason Sam demanded after already grabbing it. "Says they want kids with navy parents."

Freddie started to fill in the missing information. "…Carly's dad's in the navy…"

"Says they want kids with 3.5 GPA."

"…Carly has a 3.7…"

"Says some Japanese knowledge is recommended."

"…Carly's been there before…"

Their eyes ran from the brochure straight into Carly's. She gave them pleading eyes. "Please, _please_ put two and two together because I really don't wanna say it for myself."

Freddie wasn't sure how to comprehend, so he allowed Sam to take the first response.

"Very well then, I'll be happy to," and Sam then rose from her chair. "You want to move to JAPAN!?"

Carly's shoulders coiled in. "Very much so…" her voice shrunk.

"But…but… But we went through hell while we were there! Why would you ever wanna go back!?"

"It was just one misunderstanding, Sam…"

"But…what about senior year!? What about your brother!? What about us and…us and—"

"What about iCarly?" Freddie was finally able to speak as he stared dubiously at Carly.

"Yeah," yelled Sam. "That too!"

Carly kept switching her gaze between the two then shut her eyes. If she was gonna do this, she might as well do it thoroughly. She trailed back and answered each question chronologically. "I'll only be gone for one semester and all my credits will be transferred, so I won't be gone all of senior year. Spencer thinks I should do it so I can spend some time with Dad, and no matter what you two are still my best friends, and it's not like we've never been separated before and I'll be back before you can even—"

"You're not answering our question." Sam said unyielding.

"What about iCarly?" Freddie repeated.

Carly bit her tongue and looked pleadingly at her friends again. "Well…I was thinking maybe a little…hiatus?"

Sam was about to once again express her fury but Carly held up her hand. "Now before you freak out at me again, Sam, hiatus does _not_ mean cancellation. We can do a special iCarly before I go and tell our viewers we'll be back in 2010. A lot of shows have breaks between their seasons, so why should we be any different?"

But Freddie was distracted from something else she said disregarding the web show. "You said _before I go_… So you've already made up your mind about this?" Sam was frozen by Freddie's words and stared at Carly, anxious to hear the answer.

"…A little. I mean, yeah, it's something I really want to do. I know it's random and unexpected, and maybe not the best timing, but I feel like now is the time for me to get out there and see new things for a while."

"Hold up," Sam returned to her seat and stole a glance from Freddie before turning back to Carly. "This isn't about Tristan dumping you, is it?"

"Sam!"

Freddie couldn't help but agree. "It does sound a little rash to leave the country over a guy."

"Rash? Try down right crazy and pathetic!"

Carly couldn't help but feel insulted. Did she seriously take the resemblance of a brain dead teenage girl so obsessed with a guy she'd move a million miles away just to avoid humiliation? Really, she didn't think so. "Guys! This isn't about Tristan…much," she ignored the rolling eyes of her best friends. "Last time I checked I'm not the first one to do something crazy in this little triad here. And Sam, aren't you the one who told me to random up more? Well, this is me doing that."

"Yeah, Carly, but—"

Freddie grabbed Sam's forearm and stared at her. Surprisingly he was calmer than she, and that annoyed the hell out of Sam. She glowered at him. "Dude, you just gonna sit here dormant like a little idiot? She's your friend, too, Benson, get more pissed!"

"Déjà vu, Sam," he said simply.

"Wha..?"

"Déjà vu," and they began to converse as if the source of their frustration was no longer there. "Remember when Carly wanted to go to Briarwood? We did all that ridiculous stuff just to get her to stay, and we pretty much obliterated her interview."

Sam had to avoid his eyes now, the memory hitting her brain with a loud _Duh!_ "Yeah…and…"

"_And_ she made us feel like crap afterward, cuz she was right. We took the opportunity to decide for herself away from her. Do we really wanna do that again?"

Sam glowered more, not just because she was still pissed at Freddie, but because he had this uncanny ability at being right in the worst situations. She shot her daggers back and forth between Carly and Freddie, not knowing who to hate more in that moment. But finally, reminding herself that these were her friends (despite how much the nub-like one annoyed her) she loosened her eyes and turned toward Carly. "Fine. Sam gives. But you better thank Freddork over here for being such a moral goody-goody."

Freddie saw Carly mouth the words _thank you_ in his direction and he replied with a simple nod. Sure, he could have screamed and cursed obscenities like Sam did, but that wouldn't change the fact that Carly _was_ going to leave, because he knew they were going to let her. Because unfortunately they were good friends.

Freddie hated being good friends.

"Really guys," Carly elated and held both of their hands. "You are too awesome. I will miss you guys terribly."

"Oh, Carls," sighed Sam, "you act as if we're already at your terminal."

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure we should get through iCarly first before we do all of that," Freddie half-smiled.

"Ooh, oh yeah!" Carly started to shift excitedly in her seat. "We need to schedule rehearsals and everything. We only have two days to do this so we better get—"

Freddie and Sam dropped their smiles. They did their simultaneous stare before facing each other then facing Carly again.

"Two days?"

"When are you supposed to leave again?" even though Freddie new specifically she never mentioned it in the first place.

Carly palmed her forehead once realization hit she never told them. "Oh, Monday."

"Monday!?"

* * *

"In 5...4...3...2..."

"Konnichiwa!" Carly clasped her hands together and bowed in front of the camera. "Watashi wa Carly-chan desu!"

Sam jumped in and also bowed her head. "Watashi wa Sam-chan desu!" But in no later than a second they flailed their arms in the air and jumped into the lens of Freddie's camera. "And this is iCarly!"

It was a Sunday now, and Carly, Sam, and Freddie were broadcasting their final web cast before the hiatus. They knew they had to deliver this package with special iCarly class, so they developed a Japanese-theme to introduce Carly's news. It was a team effort on Freddie and Sam's part, mostly to convince their departing friend that they were "cool" with things, but the reality was that they couldn't be anymore farther from cool.

Really, they hated it.

"Now," started Carly once Sam pressed the stop button on her audience remote, "if you're wondering why we were speaking in mediocre Japanese just now..."

"Or," added Sam, "why we're sporting these fabulous kimonos with matching umbrellas..." which was cue to swivel in front of the camera as Freddie zoomed in on Carly's blue and violet kimono with ribbon tied pony tail, and Sam's peach and green kimono with small strands of curls sticking from her bun, "then you must be on the stupid side of life because this is clearly a Japanese-theme webisode, people!"

Carly grabbed her shoulder. "Don't patronize the viewers, Sam."

"You're right, Carls. My apologies, viewers--or rather _gomen nasai_."

"Now," started Carly again. "We're doing all of this to bring some very VERY big news to you guys—"

Sam purposely let her finger slip on the remote's "boo" button.

"Sam," Carly quietly reprimanded.

"My hand slipped." She noticed Freddie rolling his eyes behind the camera so she shot him a "oh like you wouldn't have done the same thing" glare.

"BUT FIRST," Carly inched closer to the camera. "We got a funny little surprise for you. Come on, Freddie, switch to the main cam."

But the camera stayed still and Freddie started whimpering under his breath.

"Come on, Freddie."

"Yeah, Fredduccini, come out here!"

The camera still remained motionless. "But I really don't want to."

Carly gazed deeper into the camera. "Please Freddie, for me? You really gonna deny me this now?"

He squirmed in his place, fighting the urge to glue his hands to the camera, but alas, the brunnette got to him. He sighed audibly and walked to the equipment cart.

"Fine. Switching to the main cam."

Sam cheered along with Carly and pressed the applaud button. The surprise was personally something she worked on with excitement and forced Freddie to wear. She yanked him closer to the main camera lens and twirled him around for display.

"As you can see, Fredward here is garnished in a loose orange and navy jumpsuit, cleatted open-toed sandals, and," she motioned her fingers around his forehead, "a fabulous matching navy headband. Please, audience, give a big _konnichiwa_ to our favorite hyperactive ninja, Naruto," and she gave the remote another click while Freddie slumped his shoulders over and ruffled his hair in exasperation.

"Come on, Sam, couldn't I've at least been Sasuke? Or…someone who wears darker colors?"

"Sorry, kiddo, but you're not quite cool enough to be a Sasuke. Now, say your catch phrase," and she nudged him closer to the lens.

He feigned an animated smile and gave a thumbs-up to the screen. "Believe it!"

Sam moved closer to his ear. "Now, do that thing I taught you."

Freddie dropped the smile in less than a second. "No."

"Come on!"

"No way."

"Do it!"

"No, Sam. I'm not gonna do some stupid hand seals like you expect fire or something to burst from my hands, that's so—"

"Do it or this umbrella stick's going six inches up your—"

"Okay!" He released his hands from his pocket apprehensively and raised an eyebrow toward Sam while clenching his jaw; it was obvious to Sam what that translated to but it only made her laugh more. Freddie interlocked his fingers and raised both indexes, then pacing slowly he formed different hand signs and repeated the same ones making up for some he forgot. "Shadow…clone no jutsu..."

Carly giggled while rapping her arms around her two best friends. "Don't we just scream _pathetic-anime-convention_?"

"Why yes," nodded Sam.

Freddie also nodded toward the camera. "Yes, we do."

Around twenty minutes later, Freddie was back behind his camera—more than happy to remove the sweaty orange jacket—and Sam and Carly went through their Random Debate, Pathetic Plays, and Videos from Viewers segments. Carly made sure she avoided the big announcement until the end, so she wouldn't have to face the awkwardness from the assumed thousands of eyes watching her.

"Alright guys," she slurred while the flat screen compressed back into the wall, "as promised, the time has come to give you the very VERY big news."

Again, Sam clicked the boo button and moved in front of the camera. "And no guys, that one wasn't an accident."

Freddie moved the camera to Carly so she could begin the announcement.

"Well," she began, "you all know how my dad's in the navy, right? Well our uncle—god father technically but I assume you all know how that relationship works, I mean he and my dad were like best friends since the fifth grade—kinda like me and Sam," she pulled Sam into the camera, "right Sam?"

But Sam only shook her head. "Carls, going on a tangent isn't gonna make this any less harder on 'em."

"You're right," and she let Sam go to continue. "Well, our uncle came and gave me this wonderful opportunity to attend a school in Okinawa, Japan. Now, the campus is really awesome and they have a ton of classes to choose from and my dad'll be right around the corner so it'll be a happy reunion for both of us. The only thing is…it's for a semester, so since the iCarly-from-different-locations thing failed miserably last time, we've decided to take a little hiatus."

The pause was long after that, and she glanced at Sam expecting another booing sound effect but she simply raised her hand and moved to the camera again. "A mere sound effect cannot express how bummed we are, people."

Freddie moved the camera toward himself. "Really, there's not much me and Sam can do. But to show Carly how much we—and you all—will miss her, we've composed a slideshow of random iCarly moments picked by me, Sam, and her brother Spencer."

Sam moved to his side. "And aaand, I added that super sad song that always gets played at high school reunions and TV show finales. What's that song, Freddie?"

"Good Riddance by Green Day?"

"Yep, that one! So, please direct your attention to the screen and enjoy!" and while Freddie switched the cameras Sam walked back over to a surprised Carly.

"Wait, you guys did this for me?"

"Durrskeys."

"It's our little going away present," said Freddie walking towards the two now. "Even though I did all of the work."

"Hellooo!?" Sam interjected. "Who added the sad song?"

"Oh, my bad. Even though I did ninety-nine-point-nine percent of the work."

"I'll punch ninety-nine-point-nine percent of you face—"

Their banter was countered by Carly's arms, as she held them tightly in the infamous group hug. "Thank-you guys so soooo much. I'll be leaving knowing I can never find two friends better than you."

They accepted and said in blatant arrogance, "Oh, we know."

She let go after a while and tucked a strand of hair back in her ponytail. "Well, when iCarly's over I have to finish packing a few things, but promise me you guys'll be here first thing tomorrow morning to drive me to the airport?"

"Again, durrskeys."

"We definitely wouldn't miss that for the world."

* * *

As promised, tomorrow morning came, and Sam and Freddie stood out in the Bushwell Plaza parking lot waiting for Spencer and Carly to come out with the last of her luggage. For it being late July—clearly in the middle of summer—it was sure cold, grey, and rainy under the Seattle sky. It was as if even the heavens knew of Carly's departure and were releasing the tears both Freddie and Sam were unable to conjure.

Freddie lowered the brim of his hat and dug his palms in his pockets. He looked at the blonde hair whirling in front of him, and wondered what Sam was thinking right now. There was probably still anger fumed up inside that head—well, maybe more sadness than anger. But in Sam's case the two emotions were interchangeable, so he decided to stick with his previous thought. He reached for her shoulder, wanting to get her attention, when the lobby doors opened and Carly and Spencer trudged out with more suitcases.

"I know you're moving across the globe and all," he heard Spencer say, "But are all these bags really necessary? I mean, I'm pretty sure you didn't have this much luggage when you moved in."

"No, Spencer, you're right; I didn't," she replied while walking to the side of his car where Freddie and Sam were standing, "It's called _shopping_."

"A.k.a. maxing out your older brother's credit card by purchasing three thousand dollars worth of clothing from Build-a-Bra," he heaved out while throwing the rest of her things in the trunk.

Carly turned back to her friends and hugged them. "Hey."

"Hey," they both replied.

_Silence._

"So…" Freddie tried to begin. "You ready?"

Carly peeked over at Spencer. "Spencer, are we ready?"

He shut the trunk and pulled out his keys from his jacket. "Yeep. All set, little ones."

"Alright," she said toward her friends. "We're ready. Let's go," and she hopped in the passenger seat next to her brother.

It took a while for Sam and Freddie to move their feet. Instead, he turned to Sam. "…You ready?"

She refused to meet his gaze and prodded his arm while walking to the other side of the backseat. "No."

"…that makes none of us…" he whispered, tilted his brim more, and got in the backseat to drive off.

The course of the ride was silent. In Sam's words, "you can just feel the awkward." Freddie actually thought of whispering that to her, but paused and decided against it when he saw her reflection against the glass. She was crying.

Technically it was about two tears, but it was enough to make Freddie nervous.

She hadn't cried once since Carly delivered them the news, and to be honest he thought she was accepting it more lightly than he, because every second he was on the urge of yelling and screaming, and of, well, pulling a Sam. He personally still didn't understand Carly's random need to fly to another country half-way across the world. Even if she had a few days to think about it, was it really that great of an option? Wasn't Ridgeway awesome enough? He also didn't think their goodbye was suiting enough. Maybe if he and Sam had more time they could have…gotten every one in school on it. Yeah. They could have thrown a huge party like when they first started off, but bigger. He could have set up the green screen on the courtyard wall and showed the video there…

And he would've gotten to be Sasuke.

But it was too late for that, now. Because right now he was already in the car, driving his best friend to the airport, while his other best friend was shedding two tears next to him.

And he couldn't even shed one.

* * *

Because of a minor traffic accident, the gang arrived late to the airport, and Spencer almost tripped over two elderly ladies trying to run with a load of suitcases in his arms.

"Maybe," he yelled losing the pace of the other three, "we can slow down, or stop for a second--millisecond even!"

"Are you kidding!?" Carly yelled back running faster than the others, "they just called my flight and we gotta hurry now!"

"Okay then! I'll just…ignore the throbbing, burning sensation in my arm muscles."

Shortly after, the four made it to the terminal and stopped at the security checkpoint. Carly reached in her purse and pulled out her ticket and passport to one of the attendants.

"Uh, sir," offered the attendant to Spencer. "May I offer you a luggage car—?"

"YESS!" and he dropped all the bags on the cart that was wheeled in. "Oh, um…thank you, for your kindness."

Carly rolled her eyes and motioned for everyone to follow her through to the airport check in. Her two friends still remained silent while helping place the bags on the scanner. It made her uncomfortable, but she didn't say a word until her flight was called again.

"_Flight A-16 Seattle to Okinawa, Japan will be departing in five minutes. If you haven't done so please make sure all…_"

"So," said Carly over the intercom, "this is it. I'm really gonna miss—"

But she was interrupted by Sam's arms as she embraced her friend tightly.

"Wow, Sam…"

"Me first... I'm really gonna miss you, Carly."

Carly felt liquid drop on her shoulder. "I see you're crying."

"I have permitted myself to for this occasion, yes." She pulled apart and wiped her cheek with the sleeve of her jacket. "But yeah. Miss you, love you, all that good jazz."

"We'll all miss you," Freddie finally added and placed a loving palm on Carly's shoulder. She smiled and grabbed his arm closer to embrace him tighter. "You're not getting away with that cheap form of affection, Freddie."

He raised his lips. "Didn't think so," and he held on tighter than he should have.

"Hellooo? What about the big bro? Is he not important enough to get a hug?"

Freddie took that as cue to let go and released his arms to let Carly and Spencer share their goodbyes.

"Gonna miss you, little sister," he squeezed her torso while spinning her all around the terminal. "Say hi to Dad for me."

"I will," she rasped out, "assuming you don't break my windpipe."

"Sorry."

"_Last call for Flight A-16 Seattle to Okinawa…"_

All four looked up when the last announcement was made. Carly ruffled her hair again and pulled her purse and duffle bag over her shoulder. "Well, I guess this is officially it," she felt tears coming but didn't even try to wipe them away. She held out her arms again. "Group hug?"

This was the only time they agreed without objection, and they ran over to her with equally open arms. Another minute passed, and realizing they had to let go, or else Carly was going to miss her flight (which to Freddie and Sam wouldn't be so horrible an outcome) they ended their embrace and let Carly head into the gates.

"Stay away from jealous Japanese web show hosts!" yelled Sam.

"And their candy!" added Spencer.

She continued waving until her hand blended into the rest of the crowd. The remaining three stood amongst the rushing travelers in silence, until Spencer decided it was time to leave. "So…I'll leave the car running just in case you two wanna…stand and…reflect on stuff…" and left after giving them a compassionate shoulder-pat.

It was now Freddie, Sam, and the invisible layer of awkward that hung between them. Freddie scratched his scalp with the rim of his hat before placing it back on his head. "So…" he began, "she's really gone…"

"Yup…"

"You gonna miss her…?"

"Yup…"

"You…wanna go hang out or somethin'…?"

"Nope," and without saying anything else she turned and headed for the exit.

And even though Sam was now gone, that invisible layer of awkward still hung and wrapped around Freddie like a blanket. He shuffled his feet, and just as expected, that tear showed up and ran itself down his cheek.

* * *

**A/N: Awwz, hope it didn't end awkwardly. After reading this over I noticed more Creddie than I intended. Oops, it'll help though with later chapters, I guess. But just as promised, Seddie will begin in chappie 3! Please comment on what you liked, what you didn't like, the accuracy or inaccuracy of characters, suggestions, etc. Also I'd LOVE to here some suggestions on fun things you'd like Sam and Freddie to do together i.e. high school party, movie theatre, bungee jumping, etc. Oh, and just in case any were confused, this is taking place in the summer of 09 technically. Unfortunately we can't move with the timeline since it'll be a while before the Christmas chapter kicks in (unless I update like 10 times before Friday but I doubt that'll happen). Wellz, please review as I begin working on the next chapter--because I am just that awesome =)**

**NFF:**

**-Remember Harper from iCarly Saves TV (lead singer of the house band who had to dress in a Zeebo costume)? Well, he aka Leon G. Thomas III will play Victoria Justice's best friend in _Victorious._ **

**-Also, on youtube there was this "banned" Nick commercial with white slime instead of green slime being thrown at the actors. I myself couldn't find anything on the internet to validate this, but maybe you guys can. **

**pce4now**


	3. Going Through Changes

**A/N: Hope you all had an awesome Christmas. I wanted to update yesterday, but unfortunately I got writers block. But I'm back now, babeh! This chapter's a lot shorter than the other two, but i don't love it any less. It's all Freddie's POV in this one, as what most of this story will be. Well, I don't know what much else to say so, READ**

**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing but my sanity.**

* * *

Freddie heard a faint banging while sprawled out on his couch. He wanted to ignore it--after all he was watching a new sci-fi series on HBO--but it came back at constant intervals. He shook his head, slid off the couch, and walked over to his front door.

He saw Gibby--overweight friend and iCarly regular--leaning against Carly's door banging it with his elbow. "Spencerr! Spencer open up!"

Freddie folded his arms. "Gibby, he's not home. What are you doing?"

"Huh?" but he turned and cheesed when he saw his friend across the hall. "Oh Freddie, I was comin' to you next, dude."

"Aaand why? Why are you banging on Carly's door, actually?

"I need to know is it true."

"Is what true?"

"Dude, the iCarly split up!? Is it true?"

Freddie shifted his jaw. That's not the first time he's been questioned on it. Ever since the last iCarly, fans have been flooding the site with comments and complaints. "Yea, man. Carly went to Japan so we decided to take a break--wait, that episode was two weeks ago, why are you asking me this now?"

"It's been tight around my house lately, haven't had Internet for a while. Jeesh, what up with the fifty questions?"

Freddie shook his head--classic Gibby.

"Hold up," he started again, "what about you and Sam?"

Freddie dug his hands in his sweats. He hadn't heard from Sam since a few days after Carly left. They went to see the new G.I Joe film together to get their mind off of things, but they ended with an awkward "see you later" and failed to keep in touch afterwards. He managed to get over his stubbornness and texted her a few times, but she never replied to any of them. He didn't know exactly how to get to her apartment either, but it's not like he would be bold enough to even cross that line anyways.

"What about me and Sam?" he managed to say.

"What are you two gonna do without Carly?"

He shrugged. "Don't know. Normal stuff, I guess."

"...Wouldn't think about starting up an iGibby web show, would ya?"

Freddie raised a brow and re-crossed his arms. "iGibby...?"

He kicked his foot across the floor. "Yeah I know. I'll just leave now and save myself the rejection," and he gave a flick of the wrist before trotting off around the corner. Freddie smirked at his friend and walked backward into his doorway.

If he were lucky, the commercials on his show were still running so he wouldn't miss anything--

"Aw, mom!" He hung is jaw when he saw his mother, legs crossed, sipping lemonade in his spot on the couch. The remote was in her other  
hand.

"Freddie bear, what did I tell you about leaving the door open when chatting with friends? It leaves a draft."

He ignored the rhetorical question. "I was still watching something."

"Uh uh," she held up her wrist exposing her watch while still eyeing the TV. "Not at 9:00. You know that's when I get to watch my DVR soap episodes."

Freddie glared behind her head and murmured quietly enough, "Normal parents of the twenty-first century have TV sets inside their bedrooms."

But Mrs. Benson's ears were too mighty to be fooled by mere murmurs. "Good parents not only ban TV sets from the bedrooms but also preserve 90 minutes every week to have valuable family time. Now hush up while I neglect you for sixty minutes and watch my General Hospital."

Freddie glared and clutched his hands in the view of his mother as if crushing her head between his palms. He was about to heave up to his room when he spotted a bag of potato chips on the kitchen counter. Deviously he snuck the bag under his arm and crept up the stairs to his room. Sure, she'd make him vacuum his floor later on but it was the principle of the thing.

"Ugh."

He shut his room door and slugged into his swivel desk chair. He unsealed the bag of salty potato chips, tossed one in his mouth, and leaned back eyeing all the corners of his room.

Yup.

It was official.

He was bored.

And in this truly desolate moment he realized he didn't have much of a life without Carly and Sam. Sure, being the technical producer for iCarly had established an average high school popularity, and despite how much he complained about not having enough guy friends, he enjoyed being with them. Those two girls were his best friends.

So of course, he missed them. Not just Carly though; surprisingly he missed Sam, too. But he was also ticked at her. It's been two weeks; you would think he would have heard from her by now. He didn't want to believe in the possibility that he had been dropped. True, Sam and Freddie only became friends because of Carly all those years ago, but they became _friends_. Amongst all the wedgies, name calling, physical and emotional abuse that still meant something.

At least he thought it did.

He would so tell Sam off next time he saw her—that was if he was clear on what exactly he would tell her anyway.

_Uuugh_,_ even when she's not here she still hurts my brain. Ah well, moving on. I should probably check the site again. _

Wiping the debris of crumbs on his grey sweats, he pushed his chair toward his laptop and opened to display the iCarly website. This was the main thing he'd been working on for the last two weeks: replying to every comment regarding the last episode. It was a painstaking process, but Carly always felt replying was a way to get personal with the fans. Yeah, _personal_ even though he was the main one who replied. He refreshed the page and groaned. He finished a total of 815. There were 1,102 more to go. He massaged his temple and scrolled through the most recent:

---

_Lmao the bit where Freddie was dressed as a ninja was hilarious! My little bro loves that show and started cracking up when he saw it with me. But noooo, iCarly leaving is not an lmao moment. That sucks. –cutiefan702_

_Omg are you guys splitting up now!? No more iCarly ever!? I need answers ppl! –hammy8794_

_Nooo, an iCarly hiatus! This calls for all the sad emoticons I can think of: =[ :[ :( =( D= =O –kawaii_princess92_

_Sorry to hear this, dudes. I'm a 19 yr old guy in college and I still tune in every week, you chicks are mad funny. Hope you come back real soon –vegeta9000_

_Aww, can't wait for Carly to come back, but Freddie and Sam: you guys are hilarious together in the vids you do on the website. Maybe you guys should do more stuff on your own :) --teardrops_on_my_keytar _

_---_

Freddie raised his eyebrows after reading the last one. He always enjoyed reading the few comments they did get on _his_ bits he did on the site, but receiving praise for him and Sam working together was a rare one. No matter how much he respected this poster, though, he knew it was an automatic no; he and Sam wouldn't want to do any iCarly extras without _the_ Carly.

Freddie smirked. _Even if we were willing Sam'll just drive everything to the ground without Carly's orders… But nah, sometimes doing random debates with Sam is pretty hilarious as it is frustrating. _

He kept his small smile as the thought lingered, and scrolled down to the bottom of the screen to read "displaying page 1 of 100." His smile dropped, and he clutched the sides of his laptop. "You've got to be kidding me. It's impossible for me to do this all by myself." That's when he noticed his PearPhone laying next to his computer. He shifted his attention and stared hard at the device. Hmm… He heard Carly joke all the time about how he and Sam's eye contacts reminds her of telepathy powers. He denied it every time, but now he was desperate, just desperate enough to force himself to believe telepathy existed and that he and Sam shared it. He squinted hard and dug his knuckles into the wooden desktop.

_Alright, Puckett, you're gonna hear this, and you're gonna call my phone in the next ten seconds to apologize for being…you…and for leaving me with all this crap. You're gonna help me, you're gonna like it, and throughout this whole process you're not gonna call me any of those stupid nicknames you love so much. _

His phone vibrated. _Holy crap, his phone vibrated._ He panicked and stared at his palms in bewilderment. He couldn't believe an incident that you would ordinarily find in an X-Men comic would happen to him. Okay, what was he supposed to do now? He had to use these powers for good…

He braced his self and grabbed his phone. But, oh, he let out his breath for it was only a text from Carly. He colored from embarrassment from actually thinking he and Sam had telepathic powers; it was a for the best, though, for Sam would kill him in cold blood if he ever used that tone with her.

He touched the screen and read her message. He smiled. He received these around this time everyday. Sometimes they would be forwarded to the both of them, sometimes they were just sweet little personal messages. Either way, it made him feel better knowing she was enjoying herself in Japan.

_Omg I'm at a super swanky hotel about to go on this tour of Kyoto. The people here are pretty cool, even if they do laugh at my American accent XD. They have a pretty heavy music scene here. I'll prob send u guys some cds or something. Later on Mai—one of the other Japanese navy daughters—wants to take me to this,uh, kat-tun concert. They're supposedly this super amazingly popular boy sensation that gets more fan girls than nsync did. Ha, this should be interesting. Well, hope you're doin ok. U haven't told me much about what u and Sam have been up to. I want details man!_

_Lol, well see you—Carly_

He clicked the reply button unwillingly. He knew she wanted to hear from him, but there was so little to report.

_Hey Carls, glad ur havin fun. Yea, Japan is big on music there. Some of their rock's really good but uh…if those dudes sound anything like nsync I'd probably hate to listen to them. Errr, there's nothin much here to report. Spence's gone for a couple hours everyday teaching that new art class at the rec center. Gibby asked about u. he seemed pretty bumbed about it, even asked for me and Sam to do an iGibby web show. lol that's Gibby for ya. Buuut yea, haven't heard much from Sam to even tell you much about anyways. She's probably out somewhere…eatin ham or somethin. Better there than here tormenting me though. But keep havin fun, k? School starts for us in about a week so hopefully then I'll have some awesome senior stuff to tell u about._

_--Freddie_

He gave his words one last look and sent the text. If he knew he'd be this bored out of his mind he would have snuck himself in one of Carly's suitcases and went to Japan with her. He's somewhat flexible enough.

He put down his phone and turned back to his computer screen, resting his elbow on the keyboard and his cheek on his fist. Consequently a formation of 'zzzzzz's lined up in one of the comment boxes. His eyes traveled along with each new z addition until they were forming in his head, and his eyes drifted off and he dropped his whole head on his keyboard in slumber.

__

_Diiiing ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding!_

Freddie jerked up and blinked repeatedly after hearing the dings. _Wha…what?_ He adjusted his eyes and looked at his computer screen. "Attention," it read "comment has exceeded maximum character count." He looked down at his supposed comment and saw the box filled with zzzz's, yyyyy's, wwww's and other various letters of the alphabet. Groaning incoherently, he deleted the comment, rose off his chair, and dragged his feet downstairs. He took a peak at the grandfather clock on his right wall. 11:04, so he must have been asleep for about two hours. Ugh.

He scratched his scalp while walking into the kitchen where his mother stood sponging off the plants. The fake plants. She saw not her son but his shirt as he walked in and shook her head. "Freddie Benson, I see potato chip crumbs all over that sweatshirt. You know what that means—"

"I know, I know," he dismissed, "I'll get the vacuum in a minute. Did you already make dinner?"

She tossed her sponge in the sink. "Yes, your plate's wrapped and in the microwave. I tried to wake you, sweetie, but you were out on that laptop like a light. Which reminds me: the light on the upstairs hallway is out. Can you be a good son and get that for me?"

He was about to reach for his plate in the microwave but sucked his teeth and obliged. He began walking back up the stairs when his mom started again,

"Oh and you missed Sam. She came by here saying she was back from her trip but—"

And he froze. He spun back around facing his mother. "Sam _what_?"

"She came by here and—"

"When!?"

"Juuust about five minutes before you woke up—which I don't know why because I always tell that girl not to drop by so late. I mean, really, does she not know about your curfew—"

"Well where's she now??" his voice rose for some odd reason he couldn't detect at all but wasn't really paying attention to because Sam _was here_.

"I-I'm not sure. When she left, though, it looked like she was heading toward that fire escape over there—" Again, Mrs. Benson was barely able to finish her sentence before her son sped right past her towards the door. "Don't worry, mom," he called behind him. "I'll be back in ten minutes, I just have to talk to Sam about—uh…iCarly stuff." She set her palms on her hips. "Honestly, Freddie, what's got you so jittery all of a sudden?"

"I'm not jittery!" he yelled in defense before opening the door and heading out.

"But Freddie!"

He poked his head back in the doorway. "Mom, I'm not jittery."

"No, Freddie. You got…well you got a crusted river of drool right down your cheek, come here," and before he could run out in protest she dashed over and licked her finger with saliva then applying said saliva all over his left cheek.

Freddie grimaced. "Seriously, mom, I'm seventeen. I think I'm getting a little too old to be swarmed over with a mother's spit."

She only continued rubbing his cheek and replied matter-of-factly, "But you'll never bee too old to be swarmed over with a mother's love."

"Touché. Can I go now?"

She moved her hand. "Fine, jittery pants, go on."

"Thaaank-you," and without further delay, he fast-walked toward the fire escape: fast enough to hurry without missing Sam yet slow enough to prove he wasn't _jittery_.

Freddie quickly made it to the corridor and peered through the glass. It was dark, but he caught a glimpse of long hair blowing towards his direction.

Yep, that was Sam.

He hesitated with the latch before pulling it back and stepping outside. Sure enough he spotted her reclined on one of the ledges, flicking fudge balls midway in the air and positioning her mouth for their landing. For the moment he couldn't think of any quip clever enough, so he started with a mere "Sam?"

She stopped from reaching for another fudge ball and crooned her neck in his direction. She paused, looked down in her bag, and flung one right for his cheek. Freddie hung his jaw even though this was nothing short of Sam-like behavior. "What was that for?"

"For making me wait! You should know Sam Puckett has no patience."

"But I didn't make you do anything. I was sleeping the whole time; _you _came to _me_," he hit her with the obvious and smirked. Hearing that menacing tone was quite refreshing.

She chugged another fudge ball his way, but luckily it barely skinned his arm. "And that one was for…?"

"Being a wise-ass," she stated simply and stuffed her cheeks with a handful of chocolate. He tightened his jaw and sat on the edge of one his lawn chair. Frustration ensued and he began to remember why he was supposed to be mad at her. That's right, the two-weeks-without-any-form-of-contact incident. He opened his mouth to speak but, again, Sam beat him to it.

"So what up with all the texts, Fredison?"

He gave her a blank stare. "What?"

"You heard me. I came back from visiting Melanie and saw like, fifty thousand texts blowing up my phone. And all from youuu," and she wagged an index finger in his direction. Freddie furrowed his brow more. Wait, she was supposed to be ignoring him like his overly suspicious mind had been telling him and instead she'd been visiting her sister?

"Wait," he managed to say, "visiting Melanie? That's where you've been these past two weeks? Hold on then, why didn't you just take your phone with you?"

She started picking a small chocolate shell from her teeth. "Funny story actually… Before I was supposed to leave I was eating some chili out of the fridge. My mom was yellin' at me like a freakin maniac to get in the car so I just shoved everything back in the fridge, got my bags, and ran out the door. Little did I know…"

Freddie felt the smile coming on. "You left your cell phone in the refrigerator, didn't you?"

She yelled in defense with a finger still in her mouth, "'Ey! It's a common mistake to leave cell phones in refrigerators."

He couldn't resist; he began to laugh. "I'm surprised you didn't leave it in the chili bowl."

"Oh, shaddap, Benson," and she flung the remnants of chocolate chunks on his shirt.

He stopped his laughter, but his smile lingered on in memory of Sam's stupidity, and he leaned back on his lawn chair, arms folded on top of his chest.

He saw Sam in the corner of his eye raise a brow. "So what _was_ with the texts? You k, Somethin happened?"

He stared at the stars and bit the corners of his mouth before replying. It seemed stupid to say what he thought now. He wasn't even sure _what_ he thought; something along the lines of Sam ditching him and ending their friendship now that Carly was temporarily out of the picture. Heh, that sounded far-fetched just repeating it. Now that he thought about it, he and Carly were Sam's only other friends, too, so it would be stupid of her to cut him off. Even Sam didn't like being alone, no matter how _Sam_ she was.

"Nah," he finally replied, "I just like annoying you."

She simply shook her head and leaned back herself. "You're a masochistic one, Freddie."

"That's a big word for such a small brain." And yes, he knew the physical pain was coming after that, so he braced his self when she walked forward and stomped her laced boot on his stomach. He squirmed and toppled over off his seat, while she smiled her devilish smile and stole his position on the chair. "Wow, Freddie," she said looking down on him, "either you've grown a pair in the last two weeks or you're just really, REALLY, stupid."

He clutched onto his stomach and crawled to a seating position on the ground against the chair. Even he had to admit that was an idiotic move on his part. But in a demented way, he enjoyed the pain, because at least that meant Sam was back, and he wouldn't be so hellishly bored anymore.

"Sooos," she began again, "I got a new text from Carls earlier."

"Me too," he said as he raised his knee and leaned back more comfortably. "What'd yours say?"

"Oh, the usual: _having an awesome time in Japan, lovin' my daddy, miss you guys a bunch, please don't kill each other while I'm gone_. But of course I couldn't make any promises regarding the last request."

Freddie shook his head. "Should you be reminded that with killing me, you'd be forced into six months of solitude until Carly returns…well, either that or Gibby."

She exaggerated a shutter. "You make a valid point, but it'll all work out when Carly returns so…"

"And what makes you so sure she'd forgive you after murdering one of her best friends?"

"Because, man, that's me and Carly for you. When compared to a cheesy TV sitcom, Carly is the goody-goody best friend who always reprimands me for the crazy situations I get into, but deep down sees the real me and the valuable person inside."

Freddie raised his brow toward her. "And what about me? Where do I fit in this alternate TV sitcom world?"

Sam paused while peering at him over her shoulder, then stated, "Easy. You're the annoying, nerdy next door neighbor but friend we're all forced to put up with. Very similar to Steve Erkell, actually. You should watch that show; believe me, you'd see the similarities."

This didn't faze Freddie at all. "Pssh, I heard _but friend_ in there so don't try to convince me you don't care, Miss Puckett."

Freddie couldn't see her smile form but could feel the toe of her boot dig into his back. "Gosh, Fredwardo, must you always over analyze every little thing I say?"

"Why yes, Sam, yes I do."

"I've said it a million times and will say it a million times more until I die: you are such a dork."

So they continued on like that past the midnight mark, and comfortably, they were able to sink back into the familiarity of their love-but-predominately-hate relationship.

* * *

**A/N: Well, hope it didn't end awkwardly. Next chapter will begin their school days. It's 12:36 in the morning for me and I'm dead tired, but I just haaad to get this posted. thanks soo much for all the reviews, alerts, and favorites I've gotten. Really, you guys are what inspire me to update as fast as I can and give you good quality chapters. Well, I won't be giving any news/facts tonight, since my brain is now on hibernate. Hopefully I'll have chappie 4 up on wednesday, since Tuesday's my birthday! yay! ok pce.**


	4. I Hate Everything About You

**A/N: Yes, and another chapter is done. This one is so far my favorite, so I hope it'll be yours, too. There's a LOT of Sam and Freddie interaction so look forward to it. Thanks sooooo much, REALLY, for all of the reviews and ALERTS =D. It made me feel all awesome inside knowing that people are looking forward to more of this. Well, I hope it's a good read. Enjoy!**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own iCarly, and if I did, I'd make it an ALL DAY marathon of Jennette McCurdy and not one. **

* * *

Sam and Freddie transitioned along for the rest of the week, which they had no choice but to spend it with each other. Mostly they would both plunge on Spencer's couch when he was home and watch TV (which didn't surprise Spencer much. He figured that Sam would just pick the lock anyway so why deny them the familiarity that was his apartment?), stuff their stomachs with smoothie fries, or tediously reply to iCarly comments. It wasn't constant, but once in a while they would end their day with a trip to the fire escape.

But summer couldn't drag on forever, so school came. Sam begged and tortured Freddie into skipping the first day with her, but Freddie of course opposed, and it took a long debate to convince her that it was pretty useless to skip when she'd only be more alone. Even if she wanted to sleep in she gets most of that done in school, anyway, so there was no point. So they went.

Ridgeway High School was exactly the same as last year--minus one Carly Shay. Freddie walked through the usual doors and nodded to the usual people, but didn't walk down to the usual hall, because this year he was a senior, and this meant a locker in the senior hall, baby.

He pulled out the schedule he got in the mail and checked for his locker number: D Hall, number 110. He walked down past their old lockers, sighed in reminiscence, and turned left down the end of the hallway to his new one. He scanned the plates: 107...108...109...110. The plus side: it was across the hall from the courtyard doors. Down side: it was a bottom locker again. Sighing, he dropped his bag and worked the combination. Alright...17...32...2--OWW!

Freddie clenched on to his head and scowled. A plaid red and black back pack was heaved at his head. A pair of black boots leaned against the lockers and he heard small chuckles.

Of course. It was no one other than his mortal frenemie, his personal ticking time bomb, the Satan on his shoulder: Sam Puckett.

"Sup Freddison. Lovin the bottom locker this year?" she turned toward her locker which was conveniently placed next to his--great--and started opening it.

Freddie was about to fire back with something good, but he noticed something that for some reason caught his throat. She was wearing a mini red plaid blouse that was cut at the chest, over a black, long sleeved shirt. It was cut right at the waist, so when she raised her arms to open her locker it rose, exposing most of her midriff. He always expected Sam to be fit, but her exposed abs were very toned, and he just so happened to be in the right position to notice the curves of her hips trailing into her jeans.

He couldn't help it. "Hey," he greeted. "Nice shirt."

Sam knotted her brows while looking down at him, trying to read his intention from that random compliment. She eyed her shirt, slightly widened them in realization, and slapped his cheek while pulling her shirt back down.

"Eyes above the neck, Benson."

Freddie rose and rubbed his cheek. As noted, he knew it was coming, but replying on it was better than letting the sight entice him.

Then she did the exact opposite of what he needed and reached inside his jeans.

"Um...Sam!?" his voiced rose about an octave.

She just sighed and pulled out a dangling set of keys. "Lay off the helium and loosen your balls, Freddo, I was reaching for these coming out your pocket," and she dangled them to confirm her point.

It served him right to be embarrassed. As if Sam would even remotely do anything like that to him.

"Oh." He started to smile once they changed the subject. "You know my mom finally actually let me drive my car today? I got it for my birthday last year and it hasn't left the Bushwell parking lot once. She still thinks it's a dangerous car."

Sam twirled the keys in her hand. "You mean she thinks that 1996 Honda Accord is dangerous? Please, you can run my cat over with that thing and she'll still walk out without a scratch."

"Sam. Your cat has been run over by a car, our school bus, two vans, and an ice cream truck. Her nine lives ran out about twenty lives ago."

Sam nodded back in thought. "Yeah, true... You know we either think she was in some freaky nuclear accident, or is just a god-like kitty."

"Doesn't look like a god-like kitty."

"Quit doggin on my cat, Benson."

He snickered after a moment. "Doggin...cat...get it?"

But Sam just shook her head and slammed her locker after digging into his head with her index finger. "Only a mind like yours would be able to point that out and find it funny."

She pulled her bag over her shoulder and the two began walking. She noticed a white paper loosely in Freddie's so she snatched it as they turned the corner.

"So, Freddo, let's take a peek at your schedule, shall we?" and she scanned the list before he could object. "Honors Government, AP Calculus, and Video Production? What do even have to learn about producing videos? You already produce a web show every week."

"Yeah I know, but the teacher practically begged me to be in it this year. Easy class though, easy credit."

"Credit schmedit. These classes are all lame as chizz."

"Lame or just too rigorous for ya? I don't see Sam Puckett taking any AP classes."

As if expecting it, Sam rolled her eyes and reached in her bag for her schedule to throw it at him. Freddie raised an inquisitive brow but read the list anyway. CP Physics, Trigonometry, Cooking (of course), and..."AP Language Composition!??"

"Read it and weep out your nerdy, condescending little eyes, Benson."

"But...but...you hate school!"

"Doesn't mean I'm not good at some stuff. Mrs. Phenton liked my essays and stories I wrote last year, so--" she formed air quotes mimicking Freddie's own words, "_she practically begged me to be in it this year_."

Again, Sam left Freddie speechless, which was dangerous because she'd been doing that to him more and more lately. He stared at her schedule intently before she snatched it away.

"Lookin at it like that isn't gonna make it go away. Now let's go to Physics before some idiots steal the seats in the back."

"Aw, but I don't wanna sit in the back."

"Oh wellz, Fredducinno, that's life: you don't get what you want then you die. Now let's go."

Then she dug her nails into his forearm and dragged him into the science classroom. Freddie yanked his arm away once they were near there seats and massaged the bruised area. He was about to sit near the stool closest to the wall when Sam pushed him over to the aisle seat. He pursed his lips and continued to rub his arm.

"You know you have such a brutal touch for someone with such small hands," and he dangled her hand on the table for effect.

Sam smiled. "Yep, these delicate babies know how to handle their own."

Freddie scoffed. "As if any part of you is delicate."

"I didn't hear that cute little comeback when you were starin at my shirt a couple of minutes ago."

Freddie got silent and another round left Sam the victor.

He shook out of it when a notebook landed near his foot. He bent down, grabbed it, and placed it in the outreached hand of

"Melissa?" Yes, the ex-girlfriend.

The long dirty blonde haired girl smiled and held the notebook to her chest. "Hey Freddie, what's up? Sorry about that."

He shifted in his seat. "Oh no, no biggie. So...how's life...been?"

She simply laughed. "It's been fine, Freddie. But I missed you this summer. What have you been up to?"

"Nothing major. A lot of iCarly stuff--"

"Oh yeah, that's right. You guys had your last one a few weeks ago. That sucks."

Sam pushed Freddie over to interrupt, apparently listening to the entire conversation. "It's not our last one; we're picking it right back up when Carly comes back next semester."

Melissa half-smiled at the curly blonde. "Oh, well I guess it doesn't suck then. So...how've you been, Sam?"

"I've been me, what else?"

Her smile faded. "Great. Typical Sam, I guess--" she was interrupted by the late bell as others began to claim seats. "Ooh, gotta get my front seat. Talk to you later, Freddie."

"Uh, yeah, later," he replied. He turned his head and caught Sam sneering at her as she sat down.

"_Typical Sam, I guess_," she mimicked in a raspy, high pitched voice. "I'd like to give her a typical punch in the mouth."

Freddie shook his head. "I don't get what you hate about her so much."

"Oh please, Freddie, I don't see why you went out with her in the first place. She's not blatantly rude like me: she's manipulative and treats you like a little lap dog. Ooh Freddie buy me this, film me on iCarly, take me out here, rub my feet, fan me with a big leaf, feed me grapes, and call me majesty."

"The last part never happened Sam, and you know it."

"But you know I'm right, otherwise you wouldn't have broken up with her."

He shifted his jaw, knowing Sam was exactly right. Melissa was cute and funny, and once again he met her through Carly, but eventually the relationship became too possessive, and dare he say it, annoying. He ended it after prom, and even though it took him a week to get rid of the red welt on his cheek from where she slapped him, he was at least glad she was moving on.

"I never liked the way she'd look at me, either," Sam continued, "like she was superior just because she was smart and pretty and had two parents. People like that make me sick."

"A lot of things make you sick."

"Yep. Your face did for a long while but I think I've become immune to it now."

Freddie gave her an odd look. "Thanks...I think."

"No prob."

Then class began, and the teacher, Mr. Hartford, did the obligatory introductions and passed out class agendas. Sam fell asleep on Freddie's arm twice, and he tried poking her numerous times due to the growing numbness but decided to give up, knowing the consequences of waking her up.

* * *

About fifty minutes later, the bell rung, and like a trained puppy Sam shot up and stretched out her arms.

"Mmm...that felt strangely comfortable."

"Yeah," Freddie said dryly while slipping on his back pack. "Thanks for the drool on my new shirt."

She tugged his sleeve to inspect the stain. "Oh, sure thing. Just don't think of tryna clone me or something from my spit."

"Truust me, Sam," he said as they walked out the classroom, "one of you is MORE than enough."

Then they had to walk their separate ways, after all they only had one other class besides lunch together. Even when lunch did come Sam begged Freddie to drive her to Dairy King for lunch, but he refused to risk the possible detention. Therefore she ate most of his food, and stole Gibby's chocolate milk when he wasn't looking.

They parted again, and Freddie spent the rest of the school hours chatting with acquaintances, working on homework, and flashing all his female teachers gleamy smiles to early acknowledge his teacher's pet status. He already knew he won the heart of his American Lit teacher, which made his thoughts drift back to Sam. He wondered what it was like to witness her actually doing work in an AP class. Just forming "Sam" "work" and "AP" into the same sentence weirded him out. _She's probably sleeping in that class, too_, he thought, _soiling the shirt of some other poor kid with her drool._

The final bell rang, and just as he walked out his phone vibrated with a new text.

_Freddison,_ it read. Sam. _Meet me at ur locker and drive me home after school, got into some trouble._

Freddie sucked his teeth and headed for his locker. Of course, only SAM could get into trouble on the first day of school. The question was what did she do? Hell, would his mother even allow him to drive anyone anywhere?

He spotted her right against his locker, absently playing with a strand of her hair. Boy, how he hated when she could seem so innocent when she actually capable of so much evil.

"Sam," he yelled as he walked closer.

"Freddork. Got my text?"

"Yes. But I'm not driving you _anywhere_ til you tell me what you did. There's no stink bombs in any bathroom stalls, are there? Is the school gonna blow up?"

"God, no, Freddie. I just got a little detention. Really, I don't see why you're so shocked; this should be expected."

"Just," he sighed. "What did you do?"

"Welllz," as she began every story, "I was in Cooking, eating those little complementary cookies the teacher always leaves on her desk, when I caught some creeper freshman staring at my butt."

Freddie temporarily dropped his hard look and laughed. The blow she gave him on his shoulder didn't stop him either. Really, this was funny.

"Shut it, Fredward. He had these creepy little freshman eyes that wouldn't move so I took one of those wooden spoons and jabbed it straight at 'em."

"Sam," he gasped incredulously, "you stabbed a little kid in the eye!?"

"Gosh, no! ...I missed and it hit his nose instead."

He shook his head multiple times. Only, ONLY Sam. He wasn't quite sure how Carly was ever able to keep her out of trouble.

"Anyway, Ms. Cookson gave me an hour detention so I gotta go," and she grabbed his arm again and dragged him to the detention room.

"But Sam. Sam!" he fought until they were inside.

"What?"

"How can I stay here even if I wanted to? _I_ don't have detention."

He missed her devilish smile when she turned to the room's bulletin board and turned back.

"Rip that poster off the wall," she pointed.

Freddie raised his brow. "What? Why?"

"Just do it."

"Fine," and he obliviously walked over and yanked the READ poster from the board, "but I don't see what this has to do with--"

"Hey!" Freddie jumped and turned to the tall female teacher entering the classroom. "That's obstruction of school property, young man. Detention for you."

"But...but..."

Sam laughed and clasped Freddie's hands together. "Yaaay, you got detention just like you wanted to!" Shen shoved him over to one of the desks. "Now sit."

Freddie fumed and yelled incoherent PG Rated curse words. "Ugh, Sam! You are so...so..."

"Loveable?"

"Evil!"

"Hey!" They both stopped and turned toward the front desk where the teacher sat down. "Apparently you two were the only ones dumb enough to get detention on the first day of school, so I don't wanna hear a peep out either one of you."

Freddie scowled more at Sam once she sat down to his left. He was going to continue shooting her more evil glances when he saw her pull out something that resembled a PearDoc from her bag.

"What...are you doing??" he whispered.

She untangled the cord from the base and whispered back, "music."

"But you heard her. She doesn't wanna hear a peep out of us, and I'm pretty sure blasting music from your PearPod qualifies as peeping."

"Oh chillax, Freddie. This teacher's awesome; I've had her for detention a couple of times. She's Mrs. Dawson." She then pointed her finger towards the front desk and motioned for Freddie to look. "Now pay attention," she continued in a hushed breath. "She's gonna yawn, adjust her glasses, then that bun on her head. Then she's gonna check her watch, realize it's time, and grab a bottle of sleeping pills from her purse. She'll pop about three in her mouth, and in a couple more seconds her head's gonna collapse on her desk."

Whoa. To Freddie's surprise, all of Sam's words were on point.

"But wait, she didn't collapse yet."

"Wait for it..."

Then, just as anticipated, Mrs. Dawson's head fell straight on her desk and passed out. Sam waited a couple of more seconds before springing up from her desk and searching for the nearest outlet. Luckily she found one near the bookcase and plugged it up. All the while Freddie just stared incredulously at her.

"You know what," he spoke up, "I'm starting to think you planned this."

"Right, Freddie, like I would plan to get this little kid to look at my butt, bruise him with a spoon and get an hour's worth detention. Allll that just to get stuck here with you," and ended with a sour face.

"Yeah yeah keep insulting me," he rose from his seat, "but at the end of the day I'M the one with the car keys."

She shifted her jaw once he approached her. _Okay, yeah right._

"Hey Freddie, can I have some gum from your pocket?"

Freddie dug in his pocket idiotically. "Uh, I don't have any gum. This is all that's in there," and he held out his keys for Sam to snatch. He double-taked between his hand and hers as she smirked, dangling the keys in front of him.

"And you're shocked that I'm in an AP class."

* * *

About ten minutes into the detention, Sam and Freddie were temporarily able to stop their arguing and sat in one of the corners of the classroom with Three Days Grace setting the ambience in the background. Freddie leaned against the wall and pulled out his cell phone. Sam, sitting against the side if the bookcase yawned and propped her feet on his legs. He gave her a dry look.

"What? My feet are tired."

Freddie had about three good remarks to that but strained to keep his mouth shut. Instead he went back to his phone and tried to drain her out.

"Sooo," she started, " Whatcha doin?"

"Trying to call my mom and explain to her that a certain blonde headed demon trapped me here in school so I won't be home on time."

Sam smiled and took the phone. "Here, lemme handle this." Freddie glared but she continued anyway.

"Dear Freddie's mom" she began to text. "Don't worry about your son. He's safe and sound in the classroom and you should expect him home in about an hour. I won't be expecting ransom money...this time. Oh, and I gave him a wedgie today and noticed the super gold boxers. Good work using the color-safe bleach."

"Please tell me you didn't send that," Freddie begged.

She tossed him back the phone. "Okay, I won't tell you."

But he checked his messages and saw that it was sent. He shot her another sour glare.

"You know if you keep making those faces your face'll get stuck like that, and it already took you about four years to get rid of the old dorky one," she then quickly rose and headed for the door.

"Hey," he called, "where are you going?"

"To get some snackage. B-r-b."

Freddie laid back further on the floor and lowered his brow in thought. For some reason, he had this strange ominous feeling that Sam gave him a compliment. He ran his hands over his face. _Less dorky?_ _Wha...?_ Ugh, trying to find compliments through her insults was like fishing for a needle in a haystack. Whether he'd find it or not he'd still end up with a crap load of scars.

She walked back in with two bags of Cheetos and tossed one over to Freddie.

"Err..." he held the bag as she sat down and tossed her legs back over his. "Thanks...?"

"Yeah, yeah. I wasn't gonna have you eat none of mine, so..."

He unsealed his bag and tossed a few in his mouth. He stopped, though, when he noticed Sam not eating, just crunching the bag back and forth in her hand. He could have sworn he caught her giving him an odd look. He shrugged and went back to eating.

But the look on her face was weird. She almost looked...sad.

Freddie put his chips down. He knew he was going to regret this but...

"Hey, Sam, you okay? You're acting less...you than usual all of a sudden."

"Yeah, dork, I'm fine..." but she stopped him before he got a chance to eat again.

"Hey, Freddie..."

He licked his thumb clear of all cheesy residue. "Yeah?"

"I know Carly's gone and all...but that doesn't mean you have to act all pissy towards me at times."

He dropped his bag, emotions ranging from shocked to angered. "What?"

"Those condescending little glares, rolling your eyes, it's as if you have _I hate everything about you_ plastered on your forehead."

Freddie sputtered. "But-but me!? YOU'RE the one who torments me on a daily basis and leaves without a freakin' goodbye for two weeks. Face it Sam: we may be 'friends' but you hate me more than anyone else on the planet."

It was Sam's turn to grow red. She scowled and sat up straight. "First of all, _Freddie_, I can list ten people right off the bat who I hate more than you: my father, that dog across the street who pushed my cat down the stairwell, Melissa, Nevel, Tristan after what he did to Carly, Zeebo that gay dinosaur on TV, and all five of my mom's ex-boyfriends. Sure I may torture you, but you act like that's something horrible: dude that's just me! So I'd appreciate it if you didn't act like you really despise me sometimes."

...For some reason Freddie wasn't angry anymore. He knew he should be, that he deserved to, but there was something in her eyes that actually did look really hurt. Never once did it cross in his mind that the things _he_ said affected _her_.

"Sam," his voice lowered, "Really...what's up? You've never lashed out at me like that. Well, worse but not _like that._"

Sam refused to answer for a while but gave up when Freddie wouldn't crack his stare. "You're lucky it's not worse. It's just…I miss Carly, ya know? It's weird just being with you all day, and I'm startin to feel you're starting to hate me—_hate me_, hate me."

Freddie felt the knot in his throat and looked down. How the hell did she make him feel guilty all of a sudden? "Look, Sam. I don't hate you, alright? You drive me insane, torment me, and disrespect my mother on a heck of occasions, but I don't hate you. You're one of…you're like…" he struggled for the words, but Sam could see them coming, loosening her scowl, and started to shake her head ferociously. "No, Benson. Don't you dare say it…!"

He smiled realizing he had the upper hand. "You're one of my _best friends_."

"Nope!" Sam covered her ears and continued shaking her head. "I didn't hear youuu."

"Best," he grinned evilly. "_Beeeessstttt_"

"Is there a dork talking to me? Cuz I can't hear hiiiim," she sang louder. Freddie leaned over and grabbed her wrists, forcing her to pull them apart.

"Come on Sam, say it!"

"No!"

"Say it."

"Noo!"

"Say it or I'm taking back everything I said!"

"Like I care!"

"But you _do_!"

"Fine!" and she shook him off and dust off her shirt before pausing again. Freddie gave her a stern look. "Sam."

"Okay, okay," take a deep breath. She kept her eyes on the loose strand of hair that was on his shoulder. "…You're…my best friend, too."

Freddie couldn't help but smile. Really, it was out of character for Sam, but he liked that she was finally serious about something. But she jabbed him hard in the chest, causing his smile to squirm into a grimace. "Don't let that get into your head, Fredweird. Repeat that to ANYONE and I'll drop off a body bag to your door and push you and your nubby little car off a cliff, mame you and…"

But Freddie just tuned the rest out, rubbing his chest and smiling internally. Sam wasn't mad anymore, _thank god_ she wasn't mad anymore. And thinking about it...the next five months with Sam could actually be pretty fun.

* * *

**A/N:** **I really hope the ending wasn't OOC, but I liked this chapter. Again, tell me everything you think and everything you suggest. Really, I'm looking for some fun things for Sam and Freddie to do together. Okay I don't have a "Nick fact", but this one theory was brought up in the forums and I wonder what you guys think of it: since Dan has worked with Miranda longer, he may favor her over Jennette. Hence why she has more PR deals than Jennette, and one of Sam's clips from the opening scene of season 3 were cut for one of Carly's. I've never thought about this before, but what do you guys think?**

**REVIEW!**


	5. Dare for Distance

**A/N: Oh wow, I'm so sorry guys it's been a minute--I started school again and had to finish my damn college applications. But I promised myself I would update this weekend and I did--both stories =). Thanks again so very very very much for the awesome reviews I got for the last chapter, and I hope you'll enjoy this next one and more to come. Well, it looks like it's that time for me to shut up again and let you guys read!**

**DISCLAIMER: (wow I'm starting to get sick of these) No, people, I do not nor ever will own iCarly. **

* * *

Freddie locked the doors to his car and walked briskly up the concrete steps. It was a Sunday and he had plans with Sam to go to the mall and test the new arcade. Even though she teased and mocked him for his choice of car, she enjoyed the fact he was able to provide his own transportation, because that guaranteed transportation for her as well, because even he knew that if he were to deny her any rides, it would be effortless for her to hotwire it while he wasn't looking and drive off instead.

He shivered when he walked through her building's hallway, and it wasn't just because of the September wind. Never in their four years of friendship had he ever been to Sam's apartment. Carly's been many times, and he's seen some of it from when they aired iCarly from separate locations, but he has never even dared to try to step inside.

But in this case he wasn't dared: he was forced. Sam forced him to drive there and forced him to pick her up and forced him to like it. So he had no choice but to watch his feet walk down the concrete hallway and stop at Door 22.

Sam's door.

Freddie knocked on the door in an awkward rhythm and stood back to roll on the balls of his feet. While waiting he heard glasses clanking, random screeching, and someone yelling to get the door. He tried to drown out the noise by whistling, but figured it was too cliché so he sat in the silence instead.

After a minute someone finally opened the door.

"AH!" Freddie jumped back and covered his eyes. It was such a shame that the first time he would see Sam's mother he would see her chest and not her face.

"Hey," she greeted coolly. "You're Sam's friend, right? SAM!" she called back into the hall, "how many times must I tell you to get the door? Your friend's here!"

He peeked through his fingers and saw Sam enter in from the hall. "Ugh, Mom," she yelled back. "Why do you always forget to put a shirt on before answering the door? No one wants to see your freakin bra!"

"I wouldn't even have'ta worry about answering the door if you would hear when someone's knockin."

She rolled her eyes and motioned toward Freddie behind her mother. "Gosh, Mom, look: you're scaring Freddie," and she let her mom exit past her and grabbed the door.

"Wow, Fredward, you act as if there's an invisible force field around my door. Why don't you swipe that dorky look off your face and come in."

Freddie slowly moved his hands. "Is she gone?"

She raised her eyebrow, and called back to her mother. "Mom, close your door! Freddie's scared of your breasts!"

"Sam!" he scowled and motioned for her to shut up. She only smirked and grabbed his collar to lead him inside.

"Wow, this is…small." He scanned his eyes around the apartment when he stepped into the foyer. The kitchen was toward the left, that familiar looking living room was down the center, and down a narrow hall to his right he assumed led to Sam's room.

She pushed him down on one of the barstools. "And now you see why Carly's place is like my second home. Now I just gotta get my jacket and we'll be out. I don't care what you do just don't wake Frothy sleepin over there in the corner. I told her what you said that day and she's just waiting to scratch our eyes out."

Freddie twitched and subconsciously backed closer to the opposite wall. Sam disappeared down the hall and left Freddie there. He shoved his hands in his pockets, fiddled with the inside lace, took them out, and repeated the process.

_Well_, he thought. _This is awkward. Very awkward, actually. Hm… I wonder how many times I'll say that word today_. _Wait that makes two already… Okay so I'm on two awkwards—hold on now that makes three…_

"Done talking to yourself over there, Freducation?"

He jerked out of it when he saw Sam coming from the hall. "Are you ready?

"Don't I looks ready? Now come on, the arcade is opening up in twenty," and she grabbed his arm yet again to drag him out the door.

* * *

Later in the afternoon Sam and Freddie walked out the double doors of the plaza. They spent the past three hours enjoying the various games at the new arcade and didn't know what exactly what was ahead of them next. "Alright that was definitely worth the ten buck entry fee," smiled Freddie when they stepped outside.

"I know, right?"

He turned to Sam. "Actually, Sam, I'm surprised you _would_ know considering I had to pay for you."

"You know Freddie that hurts me: that in these long four years of friendship you still don't understand my mannerisms and behavioral patterns. You know what that says?"

"What, that you're sneaky and manipulative?" and he reached out his pocket to grab the car keys.

She swooped over and snatched them from his hand. "Nope, that it's hilarious how you fall for it every time." And she ran swiftly past him toward the car down the lot.

Freddie looked back and forth between his empty hand and the running silhouette before yelling back, "Sam! Sam! Give me back my keys," and he darted down the lot after her. Sam dashed across two trucks and jumped over the hood of one before stopping at the driver's door of Freddie's Honda. She laughed in between exhales as Freddie bumped into one car before stopping at the passenger's side.

"Give me back my keys, Sam."

She stretched her arm over the roof. "Okay," but snatched them back when he went to grab for them. She laughed as he scowled. "Oh, come on, Fredison, is it ever that easy?"

He watched her trail her eyes down from the window to the lock on the door. She slowly began to bring her arm down whilst keeping that devilish grin on her lips.

"Don't you even think about doing what I think you're thinking about doing."

"What do you think I'm thinking about doing?"

"I think you're thinking about unlocking the door and driving off."

"Well then you would have thought correct, my good friend," and she opened the door.

"Sam!"

She hopped inside and shut the door before he had the chance to run over. Banging on the window glass, he motioned for her to roll down the window. She did as instructed.

"Yes?" she said in mocking courtesy. "May I help you?"

"You can help me and the state of Seattle by staying off the road and getting out the car."

She gripped her hands onto the steering wheel. "Oh, come on, Freddie, you've never even seen me drive."

"Because I know you can't."

"You know nothing inside that nubby little head of yours."

He narrowed his stare. "I know it's illegal for someone to drive without a permit."

"Really, has the word _illegal_ ever stopped me before? And besides, a permit is nothing but a piece of paper issued by some old fatheads working for some older fatheads. Driving is all up in here," and she pointed to her head.

"Actually," argued Freddie pointing toward the distance, "it's all out _there_ in the streets where the other cars are. You're not responsible enough to handle that, Sam."

"_I'm_ not responsible? Who always gets his car keys stolen when they take them out their pockets? And if I'm not mistaken I'm the one in the car. With the keys. If I wanted to, I could just start this baby up now and--"

"Okay, okay! You win!" and he dashed back around the car and jumped into the passenger's side. Sam only smiled when he shut the door, grasping the wheel tighter. "Thank you for seeing it my way."

"Yeah yeah," and he hurried to clasp his seat belt. "But seriously, Sam, if we're gonna do this you have to follow it by the rules."

"Oh, boooo," she interrupted.

"Starting with the first one," and he crossed over and leaned across her chest to grab the seat belt and lock it around her waist. "Always, _always_ wear your seatbelt."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh yes, and are you going to tuck me in and read me a good night story before driving, too?"

"There's no use for sarcasm while driving."

"Pfft, in my world, there's always a use for sarcasm," and she hurriedly shoved the keys into the ignition. But Freddie caught her and grabbed her by the wrists.

"What'chu think you're doing, dork?"

"Rule two," he stated simply, "check your mirrors. You wanna make sure they're adjusted properly for you to see what's behind you."

She moved her jaw as if to say something, but shook her head in annoyance instead and adjusted the top mirror. "There. Next…"

He nodded in approval when he double checked the mirrors. _Maybe this won't end as horribly as I think it will. _"Alright. Rule three is—"

She adjusted the gear shift and clutched onto the wheel with a sinful smile staring straight through the windshield. "Rule three is to rev this baby up and go!"

"Sam… Sam. SAM!!!!" Freddie screamed as she hit the gas pedal and jerked out of the parking lot.

The window was open, so the wind blew through the car and through Sam's hair. She smiled as she swerved a corner and dodged someone pulling out of a parking space. "Woo, you saw that, Freddie? I am officially awesome!"

"You are officially insane!!!! This was not my rule three! You are gonna get us in so much trouble!"

"Oh, chillax. I'm doing fine. And I manage to do so without driving at five miles per hour like someone."

"You are not in the position to attack me, Sam! Because of you _I'm_ gonna get penalized. We're breaking the law. We're breaking the law, do you know that!?"

"Dude, I thought we went over this not even five minutes ago: I don't care. Now," and she swerved to the left circling the lot again, "how do I get out of here?"

"NO!" and he grasped onto the glove compartment. "You do NOT wanna get out of here. Getting out of here means you wanna get out on the road. W-with cars, and people! Pedestrians, Sam! You're gonna get someone killed, along with ourselves I might add!"

She gave him a tired eye. "Are you done?"

"No!"

"Well, too bad, cuz I'm not listenin anyway," and she headed straight until she found the intersection and drove straight out onto the road.

"This is it," he repeated to himself. "I'm gonna die. You're gonna crash us into some building and it'll spontaneously combust or something and splatter our ashes everywhere. OR we'll crash into another poor car and get sentenced to four to ten years in jail for vehicular manslaughter. Either way I'm dead cuz my mom's gonna kill me!"

Sam sighed while swerving between to cars. "Gosh, Freddie, can you shut up for a second? You're making me lose my concentration!"

"LOSE IT? You never had it to begin with!"

"You know what—"

"Know what? That you're crazy and irresponsible!? Cuz yes, Sam, I do know that."

"You're just begging for multiple bruises, aren't you, Benson?"

"I'm begging for us to live!"

"Gosh, just shut up!"

"No!"

And they continued screaming on like that. Freddie spasmed multiple times in the car while Sam removed her hand from the wheel to push his head toward the window. They weren't aware of the traffic surrounding them until Freddie heard a car horn and snapped up.

"AH! SAM!"

"WHAT!?

"RED LIGHT! YOU'RE RUNNING THROUGH A RED LIGHT!"

She scoffed. "Please, my mom does that all the time. No biggie."

"Yeah, Sam, but there's two cars heading right for us!!"

He forced her head to look up at the road and both screamed. She panicked with the steering wheel and jerked to the right, just barely missing one of the cars and crossing through an intersection. Freddie latched on to the wheel with her, and together they screamed and crossed over to a plaza. Sam slammed her foot on the break pedal and as the car jolted to a stop, and both banged their heads against the windshield.

Sam with the strands of curls from her face and tried to slow her breathing. "Okay," she exhaled. "Like I said…no biggie."

But Freddie still had a terrified expression as he stared past Sam and through the driver's window. "Sam…" he rasped out.

"What now?"

"Cop."

"Huh?"

"There's a cop car coming! Uhhh quick! Switch seats with me!"

"Wait, why?"

"Because I'm the one with a license. He see's that you've been driving and there'll be a hella lot of trouble for both of us."

She bit her lip before glancing out the window and back to Freddie. "Okay, don't have to tell me twice," and they hurriedly unfastened their seatbelts and crawled across the front seats so Freddie was now in the drivers side. They tried to adjust everything as quickly as possible before the police officer parked his car and walked over to theirs. Freddie straightened his hair through the mirror and turned to Sam.

"How do I look?"

"Like an idiot. But don't worry it looks natural."

He ignored the cheap shot and breathed out heavily when the cop knocked on the window. He rolled it down and attempted to flash a polite smile.

"Um, any problems, officer?"

The tall and dark officer adjusted his belt and said in a monotone, "license and registration, please."

"Certainly, officer," and he motioned for Sam to open the glove compartment while he opened his wallet. A second later he handed the officer his driver's license and the registration. He took it and eyed the two carefully.

"How old are you, young man?"

"Seventeen, sir, but I'll be eighteen in two months."

"I see. And how old is your girlfriend over here?"

Freddie choked when he heard the assumption but Sam quickly leaned forward and addressed him herself. "I'm seventeen, sir, and in no way am I romantically affiliated with this nub."

Freddie rolled his eyes before the cop spoke again. "Okay then. Well, procedure tells me to ask you if you know why you've been pulled over, but you look like a smart kid. I'm pretty sure you saw the red light you ran through, correct?"

Freddie was sure to give Sam a sour glance before responding back to the officer. "Yes, officer, I'm sorry. I was a bit _preoccupied_. But usually I'm a very cautious driver."

"Well I don't really care about _usually_, son. Running a red light means you get this," and he wrote down some information on a yellow slip before ripping it off and handing it to Freddie. He read it and grimaced.

"Aw, a one hundred dollar ticket?"

"Congratulations. Now, head on home before you get into any more trouble, kids," and he shut his notepad and walked off. Freddie rolled up the window and waited five more seconds before banging his head hard against the dashboard. Sam coolly blew some air from her cheeks and looked around. "Well…that sucks…" She then looked out the window and smiled. "Oh hey, look! We stopped right next to a Sonic! Thank god, I'm starving!" and without saying a goodbye she unlocked the door and ran out.

Freddie hung his jaw in shock and stared at the blonde running across the lot.

…_I hate…that girl…_

* * *

Sam didn't know what time it was when a loud banging came from her window. She groaned and threw her pillow over her head. She didn't have a clock near her but she was pretty sure it was in the middle of the night and no one could have been crazy enough to wake her up without facing repercussions. She forced herself to sleep again, but the banging came louder.

"Ughhh, damn it all!" She fell off her mattress and dragged her feet over to her window. She pulled it open.

"Freddie!? What, how, and why are you here?"

Freddie struggled to escape from the bushes and pulled himself into the room. She watched as he lost his footing and fell on her hard floor.

"Thanks for the help," he said dryly as he stood up.

"I don't give help to creepy boys who sneak into my room at night. Now what up, Benson?"

He rolled up the sleeves of his sweat shirt and showed a subtle grin. Sam raised her brow.

"Prepare to honor me, Princess Puckett, cuz today is the day _you_ learn how to drive."

Sam stared disbelievingly at him for a long moment. "Come again?"

"_I'm_ taking you _out there_ and teaching you how to drive: you know that thing you failed miserably at yesterday?"

Sam wasn't exactly sure how to respond. It was very rare for Freddie to perform a nice act if it had anything to do with her. "Um, you do realize in the middle of the night, right?"

"Actually, Sam, it's 5:20 in the morning, and the sun's about to rise in about ten minutes. I figured the streets would be free of all innocent bystanders at this time for us to practice."

She felt herself begin to smile but held it back. "Wait…so you're serious about this?"

He shrugged. "Yeah, I mean…when I told my mom what happened she got all freaked out as usual, and said stuff like I couldn't trust you behind the wheel of a car, and even though sixty percent of me totally agreed with her, a little bit of me wants to prove her wrong."

"So…you snuck out your apartment _just_ to teach me how to drive? I'm waiting for a catch here, Freddie, help me out."

He smirked. "There's no catch, Sam. But hurry up cuz I parked in the handicapped space and I can't afford another citation."

She watched him crawl back out the window. She shook her head as she smiled and reached for her jacket. She really hope he was prepared for this.

* * *

"Alright, Sam. You ready to start this over—the RIGHT way?"

They were in an empty parking lot across from Bushwell Plaza now. Freddie let Sam switch sides and she now gripped the wheel in excitement.

"Yeah, yeah," she said. "Ready to follow your stupid rules. Now let's get this over with."

He shifted in his seat. "Okay. What's rule one?"

Without complaints she reached for her seatbelt and locked it in place.

Freddie nodded. "Good. Now what's rule two?" and she made sure both mirrors were adjusted to view the road behind her.

"Alright, now rule three—and it's not _rev this baby up and go_," he mimicked in her tone.

"Although it shouuuuld be."

"It never wiiiiiiill be. Now pay attention Sam: the break is the left pedal, and the accelerator is on the right. Only use your right foot to operate both."

"Why?"

"Because I said so."

Sam glared. "I'm gonna let that one slide, Frediffer. Now what else?"

"Check out the gear shift: park, reverse, neutral, and drive. It's not that hard to remember, just think of some…clever acronym or something."

"Do you have one?"

He averted his gaze. "Well…"

She noticed the hesitation and decided to press it further. "Uh oh, do I sense an embarrassing story coming on?" she teased.

"No Sam, I'm not telling you."

"Come ooon."

"No."

"Please?"

"Nope!"

"Say it or I'm shoving my foot on the gas—"

"Okay!" and he exhaled slowly. "It's one my mom made up for me… People Respect the Neatly Dressed."

Sam shook her shoulders prepared to burst out in laughter. "Um, me making fun of you by laughing my butt off won't jeopardize you teaching me how to drive, will it?"

Freddie sighed. "You got three seconds."

She laughed out tears until her three seconds were up. "Okay," she calmed down, "I'm done. What's next Fredducinno?"

He rolled his eyes and scooted up further. "Okay, Sam, please don't make me regret this, but…you can SLOWLY start the engine and shift the gear into drive. SLOWLY!"

She smiled and looked at him. "Think you can put a little faith in me first?"

"Yes, Sam, all my faith is in your hands, just…drive."

Without any further instruction she checked the break and started the ignition. Moving at an uncharacteristically slow pace, she shifted into drive and touched on the acceleration. The car jerked when she moved out an inch.

"Sam!" he cautioned.

"Don't worry," she assured, "I gots this," and she drove off.

They only circled around the empty lot, but eventually Sam became used to the turns, and he let her drive out onto the road. The transition was surprisingly smooth and Freddie relaxed under the seatbelt after a couple of minutes. It was a huge improvement from the day before, and Sam was able to drive with other cars without running through lights or knocking over pedestrians. They were able to ride together comfortably until Sam decided to pull over.

"Hey," said Freddie as he looked up, surprised. "What's wrong? You were actually doing okay, Sam."

She parked the car and reached for something in her jacket. "...Here."

Freddie paused before taking what was in her hand. "Sam…this is a one hundred dollar bill."

"Yeah I know. I _did_ actually feel kinda bad about getting you that ticket, so I asked my mom to lend me some cash."

"…really?"

"Well, no. Actually I just took it out her purse. But either way I figured I owed you."

Freddie folded the bill back and forth in his hand. "Thanks, Sam."

She shrugged it away. "No, prob. But thanks for the lessons, dude."

"You're welcome. Thanks for proving me wrong."

They stayed silent as the invisible layer of awkward crept back between them. "So…are we done being nice to each other?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"Good. Now I can start this baby back up and _go_ somewhere," they adjusted back into their familiarity as Sam started the car again and drove off. And even though Freddie got into even deeper trouble later on for sneaking out the house in the early morning, he still got to continue their lessons, and he still managed to secretly enjoy the time alone with Sam.

* * *

**A/N: Okay, I actually know nothing about driving, so I had to look up some of that information. This was a small idea I had in my head for awhile, and instead of making it a oneshot I fit it into this story. Slowly but surely their relationship is building, and next chapter will have some even better, closer interactions between the two. I reaaally hope you enjoyed this, and again I'm sorry for the wait!**

**Oh, and this has absolutely nothing to do with my story but there's a song I heard on youtube that made me laugh and think exactly of Seddie. It's "She's a Lady" by Forever the Sickest Kid. You guys should check it out--and also don't forget about iSaved Your Life coming on tomooorrooow.**

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	6. I Know What I Am

**A/N:-looks around- really...? I'm back? It's back? IT'S BACK! **

**yes, school's been hell but it's finally over with! It didn't help that I've been without internet for about a month, but now I have returned and so has this story. So um...to anyone still patient enough to read this...here we go =D**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own iCarly. Stop thinking I do!**

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Sam eagerly tapped her boots against the pavement as she leaned against Freddie's car. It was the dweeb's birthday, and she was about to abandon all plans of gift giving until a coupon for free ribs from Jay's Bar and Grill hit her in the face. Literally, the wind blew while she was wandering through the park and the thin slip of paper smacked against her cheek. She didn't know if was either coincidence or the big man upstairs' doing, but she thanked the invisible force and took a bus straight to Bushwell Plaza. She texted Freddie while on the ride to wear something presentable and meet her in the parking lot, but he had yet to show his face. _Stupid boy_, she thought. _And they dare complain that female chicks take too long to get ready_.

"Freddaaay!" she yelled toward the entrance, as if he could hear her.

"Whaaat?"

Oh. Apparently he could. She saw him swing the door open and lightly sprint over to the car.

"What took you so freakin long?"

"Sorry. I told my mom what you were up to and she made me iron my good pants."

She sighed as she eyed his attire. "I thought I told you not to dress like a nub tonight."

"Don't criticize my clothes, Sam. I don't even know where we're going. All you said was that we're getting food. What food?"

She swiftly reached in his left pocket-typical-and grabbed the car keys. "I'll let you know when we get there," and with a quick smile she turned away and headed for the driver's side of the Honda. Freddie narrowed his stare but didn't try to stop her. He's been down that road too many times before and didn't feel like wasting energy trying to stop the inevitable.

"Lemme guess, you're driving?"

"Yup. Momma got her permit last week so by golly she's gonna use it." They simultaneously hopped in and Freddie raised his brow as she handed him her ID to view. He eyed the plastic and smirked when he saw her picture.

"Sam, you're eating a chicken leg and waving your fist in this picture."

"I know right? I figured whenever I get pulled over and the cop asks for license and registration, I could be like 'well, gotta chicken leg?' And pose when he holds it up to my face."

"Only you, Sam, would take that much consideration into a driver's permit picture."

She smiled. "Gotta love me."

Freddie chose not to answer. It was surprising that she was doing this for him which was actually pretty considerate for a creature like Sam. So he decided to run with it. Well, for now at least.

That comfortable all-knowing silence settled over them until Sam spoke again.

"Hey."

"Yeah?"

"When's the last time you got an email from Carly?"

"Uh...I don't know. Maybe like a couple weeks ago."

"Oh."

But that didn't dawn on Freddie until Sam brought it up. "Wait, wow...it has been about a couple weeks."

Sam chuckled. "What? Did reality just smack you on your forehead or something?"

He sat up in his seat. "Nooo, but…don't you think it's weird that it's been that long? Even weirder we haven't noticed?"

"I'm not even gonna say what i think is weird because then that insult'll come too easy. But you know Carly. She's probably got her head wrapped up in school work and she'll give us a whole novel of updates in a few days. And if she doesn't give us something today, then hey, she'll just owe you a birthday present when she comes back." Freddie gave her a look but decided not to respond and stared back out the window. Sam stared bleakly out the windshield as well. She knew what Freddie was thinking. The dork could probably almost sense her anxiety over Carly as well. Oh well, not that she'll ever tell Freddie of all people.

Sam started to speak again. "You know when Carls comes back we gotta throw her the most awesome, law-of-gravity defying, welcome back party this side of Washington has ever seen."

His smile came back. "Right, even better than when we all crashed Wendy's older sister's house party last summer."

"Ah yes, Jessica's party. You know that chocolate fountain was epic."

"Even more so was your double back-flip dive into it."

"You know what that means. We gotta come even harder with this one. We'll probably need something along the lines of a garden hose, a vacuum pack, aaaand two tons of tapioca pudding."

Freddie smirked. "What late 90s cartoon did you steal that crazy idea from?"

"Uhhh, I can't remember, but I could've sworn it had a talking dog in it."

* * *

Eventually Sam drove the car down a restaurant strip downtown. He raised a brow when she started to turn into a vegetarian bistro.

"A vegetarian spot," questioned Freddie. "Seriously?"

She _Ha'd_ while turning into another corner. "Heck no, there's a bar behind it. Don't you know me at all?"

"Well yeah, but"—

"Then don't ever again _ever_ assume that I'd ever eat at one of those meatless shacks of torture."

Freddie rolled his eyes and looked out the window. "A bar, though…?"

She parked the car. "Don't worry your little PG rated head, Fredison. I come here with my mom all the time and they don't sell alcohol to minors." She ruffled his hair playfully as they exited the car and threw back over his car keys.

"And tell me: how is this exactly a gift for me?" Freddie groaned.

"Dude, ribs are a gift for everybody."

"But I don't even like ribs all that"—

"SHHH!" Sam threw her hand over his mouth. "The Goddess of Ribs will hear you."

"But there is no Goddess of"—

"No man…she's everywhere."

After a minute of staring elusively into the distance and officially weirding Freddie out, she tugged his arm and pulled him into the double doors.

Freddie cringed once they were inside. Even in the non-smoking section he could whiff the unattractive aroma of smoke, sweat, and facial hair. Sam nodded to some random strangers passing by before pulling Freddie into the bar area.

"Sit nub."

As instructed, he sat. She sat in the adjacent swivel chair and banged her fist on the wood. "Ayo bartender!"

She yelled for attention until a middle aged man with bleached hair and a five 'o' clock shadow came from behind the bar. "Hey there, little Puckett lady, where's the hot misses tonight?"

"Sup Robby. My mom's not here," and she motioned towards Freddie. "Nope, tonight it's just me and this thing. Freddie, Robby, Robby, my friend Freddie—well, fifty-four percent of the time."

Freddie glared. "Fifty-four?"

"It's over half; take it or leave it."

"I can't believe I have to put up with this," he groaned.

"Hey, be lucky I'm treating you out on your birthday," and she slipped Robbie the coupon she found earlier. "This is good for five free slabs of ribs right?" she whispered to the bartender.

Freddie rolled his eyes. "Yeah, you're treating me with a free coupon. Gee, thanks Sam."

Robby decided to slip through the awkward. "IIIII'll be right back with some root beers."

"Make his a water!" Sam called back. "I don't think his BAC level can handle a NON alcoholic root beer."

Freddie gave her a sour look. "Don't you think you should wipe the sarcasm off your lip before it hits your chin?"

"Don't you think you should wipe the attitude off your lip before _I_ hit your chin?"

He sighed in discontent and rested his elbows on the counter. Sam, noticing his ill attitude, took a nutshell from the small bowl near her hand and threw the small pieces towards his face. "Oh come on, Freddie. It's your birthday, lighten up."

Freddie looked at her from the corner of his eye and saw her huge expression of feigned excitement on her face. It sort of made him smile at how crazy she looked. She started to shake his shoulders. "You're the big _one-eight_. You're like, officially an adult now, so you can finally run away from your crazy mother without her being able to punish you legally!"

He gave a wry smile. "You just love hating my mom, don't you?"

"Very much," she laughed.

Her laughter died through the voices of country rock and broken beer bottles. Freddie bit the side of his tongue and looked around awkwardly. He knew he should have felt honored that Sam willfully brought him into her world for the night on her treat, but this was pretty far away from a night of cleaning his camera at The Groovie Smoothie. How sanitary was Jay's Bar, anyway? He could have sworn he spotted no health inspection grade on their window when he walked in.

So no, this wasn't exactly the birthday he was used to. Last year, though, his was pretty awesome. Carly surprised him with a new PearPod and synced a whole bunch of group photos into it. There was even this really cute one Sam or Spencer must have taken of her hanging upside down from the monkey bars at the Rec Center. She had a small booger hanging from her left nostril and demanded Freddie to delete once she noticed it, but it was just too hilarious to send to the recycle bin.

Freddie started laughing at the memory thus getting an inquisitive look from Sam. "What's tickled your funny bone, Benson?"

"Ah, nothing," he smiled. "Just thinking about Carly's birthday present from last year."

Sam nodded slowly but averted her gaze from him. She remembered that gift. It was a new PearPod she was able to buy off of eBay for half off. Freddie hit the roof when he unwrapped it. Sam's gift wasn't much, just a spiffy little t-shirt she paid ten bucks for that said "Church Pants" across the chest, but it made her laugh when she saw it at the store and immediately think of the brown-haired nub. She only remembered him wearing the shirt a couple of times, but not once has he ever left the house without his gleaming mp3 player. It was weird how Carly always knew what to get people for their birthday, even weirder how much she new about Freddie. She only had to guess, though, that that came from a natural liking of people and of taking an interest in them and whatnot.

Sam looked back over at Freddie playing with his PearPod. "You miss her, don't you?"

"Huh?"

"Carly and her awesome birthday gifts."

Freddie looked at the PearPod in his hand and then back at Sam. For some reason he grew nervous. "Um, yeah, well…you know"—

She sighed. "Don't worry about it, though. It's your eighteenth one. I'm pretty sure she did something awesome like put down a deposit on some swanky producing studio downtown. You know, she thinks big like that," and she tapped her head with her index finger while turning in circles in her stool. "You know, on my twelfth birthday I had to spend it in Juvie for something I'm legally not supposed to bring up to the public, so Carly made me this sandwich, with honey baked ham, finely cut turkey, and five types of cheeses between two slices of wheat bread THIS big," and she stretched out her arms about six feet. "You know it took me about two hours to finish that thing. The guards had to search it to make sure it wasn't smuggling any dangerous weapons, but boy were those the best two hours of my life." She smiled. "Now if that's not a best friend, I don't know what is."

Freddie laughed as he picked up a nut from the pile. "Yes: true best friends make you six feet sandwiches whenever you're in trouble."

"Exactly."

Sam's smile faded as her chair lost momentum and stopped spinning. With Freddie's PearPod right there thoughts of Carly now swam in her head. But it was weird because it just wasn't Carly. It was another outlandish emotion she got every time she noticed Freddie's fingers lingering over that thing. Did he seriously miss her that much?

Robbie came back around a minute later with two plates of barbeque ribs. "Eat up Sammie, and Sammie's strange little friend," he smiled and left.

Sam gave the ribs a long look. _Yeah_, she thought, _no chizz he misses her. This isn't exactly my thing, though; treating on birthdays and…caring. But I figure hey—I get one smile on that dweeb's face and my job for the night'll be done. Yup…that's doable_. Finally she took one and held it up in the air. Freddie furrowed his brow.

"Weeellp," she started, taking in a deep breath, "this isn't a brand new PearPod or a six-foot ham and turkey sandwich, but I guess it'll have to do for this year, eh Freddie?"

She nodded over toward his plate signaling him to take one. After a moment he smiled and grabbed a rib piece and held it in the air as well. "I guess so, Sam. Happy birthday to me!"

"Aaaaye!" she cheered and they toasted their meat before biting down on the barbeque goodness. Sam smiled devilishly and wiped her bone across his face, leaving barbeque sauce all over his cheek. Freddie wiped his fingers across his cheek and stared at her in shock. She laughed harder at his expression and how idiotic he looked, but missed the fresh sauce now plastered to her forehead. It was Freddie's turn to laugh as he held his rib in one hand and held his sides together with the other. Sam growled and gave him another smack, which caused him to repeat the same process. In about five seconds the two erupted into a rib-slapping war getting sauce all across the bar counter. From a distance Robby shook his head and smiled at the two, then snuck over to the stage to the right of the room to whisper into the ear of the base player. He pointed over to the dirty blonde covered in barbeque sauce at the bar and gave a quick signal to the rest of the band. The bassist smiled and nodded, getting the cue to cut the music.

The people of the bar, wondering why they were no longer being serenaded with hard rock tunes, turned their heads to the stage as the bassist made his way up to the mic. "Alright people, how's everybody feeling tonight down at Jay's Bar and Grill?" He clapped into the mic signaling the crowd to participate in the noise. Back at the bar Freddie noticed the attention drawing to the stage and tapped Sam on the shoulder, motioning for her to look, too. She smeared her fingers across his cheek to capture the barbeque sauce before turning towards the stage. She licked her fingers as she paid attention.

"Nice, nice, good to hear," and he adjusted his shades before he continued. "Now tonight, my band right here usually never disappoints with a hit song to fill your ear drums every night, am I right?" Again the crowd took it as signal to clap and cheer. "Good, good. Well usually every Thursday night we have the lovely Miss Sarah Lizzie Puckett come and perform to us a rock classic, but tonight me and some friends thought it'd be nice if we gave the spotlight to her daughter, little Miss Sammie Puckett down by the bar. Make some noise for her please!"

…

Sam stopped licking her fingers.

All of a sudden people started looking in her general direction and clapping.

_What? Clapping? For who? What now? _

Her heart started racing as some stupid light person added more tension to the moment and shined a spotlight on her. She put down the rest of her ribs and grabbed Freddie by the arm. "Uh, hey Freddie, what's that? Is that your mom calling? I think it is, let's go."

"You do not hear my mom calling, Sam."

"Well I don't, but you probably do, after all she does use one of those supersonic dog whistles on you." She pulled him harder. "Now let's goooo."

But Freddie laughed and shrugged his arm away. "No way Sam. I'm taking this as an extra birthday present: to watch you on stage potentially make a fool out of yourself."

She growled as the claps got louder. "Come on, Sammie," called Robby from behind the bar. "Have a little fun. The people are waiting for you." Over on the stage she could see the bassist also waving her over. She clenched her fists as Freddie pushed her toward the stage. "Yeah Sam," he smiled, "they're waiting."

"You know it'll be pretty hard to watch me with two black eyes, Fredward."

"You're empty threats don't phase me now."

"Will a drop kick do it?"

"Oh just go!"

"No!"

"Yes!"

"No!"

Another spotlight circled around the two and in a second they stopped. Freddie pushed, and finally Sam gave in. Giving him one last evil glare from behind her shoulder, she wiped the excess barbeque sauce on her jeans and slowly made her way to the stage.

"Alright," the bassist smiled and the crowd cheered, and before he could say anything else Sam walked over and snatched the mic from him. "Ugh, you guys know Home Sweet Home?"

"Yeah, we know that."

"Fine then, just play that and let's get this over with."

"What's the magic wooord?" the bassist teased.

"Bloody. Guitar," she scowled. He gulped and signaled the band to start playing.

"Okay, that's good enough, let's go."

Sam clutched onto the mic and stared out at the crowd in anxiety. She was in a beauty pageant for years; she was used to singing in front of crowds ten times this size, but this night had her friend out watching her. No, not her best friend, but the tall, nerdy one staring at her from around the corner. In her mind she was pummeling him with an axe for making her this nervous. Why exactly was she this nervous? But in a matter of seconds the band started playing the intro, and there was nothing else Sam could do but sing.

She sighed deeply and opened her eyes as the first verse started flowing in:

_You know, I'm a dreamer_

_But my heart's of gold_

_I had to run away high _

_So I wouldn't come home low_

_Just when things went right_

_Doesn't mean they were always wrong _

_Just take this song_

_And you'll never feel left all alone…_

…Wow.

Freddie soaked in the voice, but he couldn't comprehend where it came from. It was…beautiful. It was as if someone dipped his ears into fresh honey and jasmine. But was that really Sam, his demonic friend Sam Puckett singing that beautiful rendition of a Motley Crue classic? Her voice echoed louder, and Freddie clenched onto the edge of the counter as he watched her sing her heart into the mic:

_I'm on my way_

_I'm on my way_

_Home sweet home…_

_Tonight, tonight_

_I'm on my way_

_I'm on my way_

_Home sweet home…_

The crowd started clapping to match the rhythm and some excitedly rose from their seat as she continued:

_You know that I've seen_

_So many romantic dreams_

_Up in lights_

_Shining off the silver screen_

_My heart's like an open book_

_For the whole world to read_

_Sometimes nothing,_

_It keeps me together at the seems_

_I'm on my way_

_I'm on my way_

_Home sweet home…_

_Tonight, tonight _

_I'm on my way_

_Just set me free_

_Home sweet home…_

Finally Sam bowed her head as she let go of her last note. Gasping for breath, she looked up and smiled as she saw everyone's applauds and roars. Robby was proudly nodding from the corner of the bar, and even closer she caught Freddie standing on both feet, arms high in the air, cheering and clapping louder than anyone else in the room.

"WOOO!" she heard him over the voices. "That's my friend up there! She beats me on a constant occasion and just rocked that stage just now! Wooo!"

"Stupid nub," she laughed to herself. She gave one last awkward bow to the crowd and hopped off the stage and over to the bar. Freddie still stood there with a dazed stare.

"Hey, Robby!" Sam called for the bartender.

"Yeah?"

"Can you put the rest of these ribs in some to-go boxes? For once I think I've had my fill for the night."

"Whatever you say, Sammie. You killed it up there!"

She nervously pulled at some strands of her curls over the counter while she waited. Freddie still stood there, but she refused to meet his almond eyes.

"So," he finally said. "Where did _that_ come from?"

"Where did what come from?"

"That voice?"

"Uh…my windpipes," she countered.

He rolled his eyes, not impressed with her modesty. "Oh, please Sam. Why didn't you tell me you could sing like that?"

Sam bit her lip and hopped off the counter when the boxes came. She grabbed them, waved quickly goodbye, and headed for the exit with Freddie pacing behind. "Because there was never a need for you to know," she finally replied.

Freddie tried to keep up with her pace as they reached the parking lot. "I don't know, it's just that I've known you for years now and I never once thought you could have any talent"—

"Wow, thanks for that demotivational statement, Fredwardo"—

"No, I mean—talent like _that_. That was amazing."

"_That_ can stop being talked about," she sighed and leaned on his car. "Now can you unlock the door, please?"

Freddie unlocked the car doors and slipped in the driver side. He managed to click in his seat belt and start the car, but about a minute of driving out onto the road in silence, he tapped the steering wheel and opened his mouth again.

"So…does Carly know?"

"About what?"

"About your…abilities?"

She held in a smirk at his retarded way of putting it. "I've never _sung_ for her, no."

He confused her with the smile that started creeping onto his face. "…What?" she asked.

"So…I'm the only one who knows?"

She gave him a look then turned to stare out the window. "Yeah, I guess," then peeked over to see him still smiling.

"Cool."

She leaned against the window, trying to fight it, but his happy mood crept up on her and eventually it was too late: she was smiling, too.

"You know, you're a weird one."

Freddie gave her a quick look and grinned. He opened his mouth but shut it and decided not to ruin the comfortable silence.

…So he was the only one that knew.

_Cool._

* * *

Freddie pulled into the Bushwell parking lot and and undid his seat belt. Sam raised an eyebrow. "Uh, Freddie."

"Yeah?"

"Why are not at my house again?"

"Because my birthday's not over yet," he smiled.

"Come again?"

But Freddie ignored her and hopped out of the car. Sam had no choice but to do the same and grabbed the boxes from her lap. Freddie walked forward from around the car. "Good, you brought the ribs."

"I bring ribs anywhere. Now what the heck are you doing, Benson?"

"Relax, Princess Puckett, it's nothing huge. I'm just not ready to go home yet."

"Then we're here _at_ your home because...?"

"Ugh, just come," he said and grabbed her wrist, pulling her toward the entrance. Sam stared at her arm as they walked. Usually this was an offense on his part that would result in a Texas wedgie or a Cherokee indian burn, but she was too curious to cause pain. They headed up the elevator to his floor and walked down another hall. Eventually the obvious smacked Sam on the forehead.

They were heading up to the fire escape.

"Alright," sighed Freddie as he unlatched the screen door and stepped through. Sam followed and looked around as if she had never stepped foot in the oh-so familiar place.

"So explain," she demanded as she set down the boxes. "Why are we here?"

"I told you," he replied as he graced his butt with the floor, grabbing for a box of ribs, "I'm not ready to go home yet."

"So you come here...?"

"Hey," he shrugged putting a slab of meat inside his mouth, "it's my birthday, therefore I reserve the right not to have to explain anything to you."

Sam placed her hands on her hip, curious about what messed up thing was going on in his head now. But he was also eating all the ribs, and she couldn't stand for that, so she sat down and yanked a rib from his lap. Eventually they settled into that silence again, and Sam began to take comfort in watching the city below. It was nice, she concluded, to sit and do nothing while eating her favorite meat.

Freddie took a napkin from one of the boxes and wiped his fingers. "So..." he finally began. "Do you like it?"

"Like what?"

"Singing?"

Sam didn't have the energy to be evasive. "Yeah, I guess it's okay."

"Ah..."

She bit into another one and paused before chewing. "So...do you like it?"

Freddie raised an inquisitive brow. "Like what?"

"Your birthday?"

"Yeah, I guess it's okay."

Sam looked over at him but he kept looking straight forward. She rolled her eyes. "Ah..."

But slowly the corners of his lips started to curve. "I gotta say though, you actually got me to fall in love with ribs tonight." He took a huge bite into one. "My God, what do they put in this rib sauce?"

She smiled. "I don't know, but it makes you salivate like hell, right?"

"Yeah, like my tongue is drowning in my spit."

"Ew."

"I know, but it's so good."

She took one of her curls and started twisting it between her fingers. "Whoa there, Freddo, you're starting to sound like mama over there."

"You're right," he swallowed, "we don't wanna cross into that territory, now do we?"

"I bet Carly would never take you to a place like that, would she?" And even though she asked the question, the smile on her face started to fade.

Freddie shrugged. "I guess not, but she would've missed you up there. If it shocked me, imagine what it would do to her."

"Nah," she shook her head. "Carly has more faith in me than you do. It wouldn't be that surprising."

"Whatever," he mumbled to himself. "I still thought it was pretty awesome."

There it was. That weird, outlandish feeling again. Sam pounded her fist against her chest. Maybe it was gas. She was clearing her throat when Freddie looked at her strangely. "What are you doing?"

"Uh..." she stuttered, "Nothing, gas."

"Okay..." He pushed his Styrofoam box away, leaving Sam to eat the leftovers, and pulled his knees closer to his chest. He stared out at the night sky for a long while before speaking again.

"You know...I don't really know what I am."

"Huh?" she said between bites.

"You know what they say: when you're eighteen you're legally an adult now, but it's not yet twenty so you're still a _teen_ager. I don't feel that much difference between yesterday and today-well, yesterday I didn't have the feeling of twenty slabs of barbecue ribs in my stomach, but still."

Sam chuckled and put her box down, too. She wiped her mouth across her sleeve before she spoke. "Well, Fredward, I know what you are: a nub."

"Thanks," he scowled.

"Ugh, just listen. You're a nub, a tech nerd, and an awkward brown haired little dweeb in my eyes. You've attended the past three Galaxy Wars conventions, you go to mother-son tennis, synchronized swimming, and basket weaving classes, you suck at most sports, except for fencing which you surprisingly dominate in, you have a 3.9 grade point average, you upgrade the iCarly equipment every week, and you make awesome graphics every time for our viewers to love. You've been that yesterday, you're that today, and you'll be that tomorrow. Just know that you being eighteen, twenty-one, or thirty-seven doesn't change a thing for me. I'll still mess with you, call you names, and drink half of your soda when we go out to eat. Because you're Freddie. And you always will be. Remember that," and she disheveled his hair to finalize her point.

Freddie stared at her for a long time, but she kept her eyes forward. It was weird how he could still sense a warm feeling in the midst of all her insults. She was rude, she was obnoxious, but she was still Sam. And he would still be Freddie. It was good to know things would never be different between them.

"Yeah..." he finally spoke and looked out over the balcony, "I know what you are, too. Crazy, irritable, irresponsible, obnoxious"-

"Psshh," she scoffed. "You say that as if I don't know what I am. No chizz I'm all those things." She stood up and brushed off her knees. "But I'm also your friend," she looked down at him and nudged him in the side. "So you have no choice but to deal with it."

She left without saying goodbye, and without cleaning up the discarded bones all over the floor, but Freddie didn't really care for once. He laid back, resting his palms behind his head, and replayed all the events that happened that day. His phone vibrated, and he reached in his pocket to check the message. It was an incoming text from Carly, probably wishing him happy birthday. But he didn't really feel like reading, so he stuck the phone back in his pocket and closed his eyes. Carly would understand.

He started humming. Note: he sucked at it, but for some reason he couldn't get the tune of _Home Sweet Home_ out of his head.

* * *

**A/N: Kay, that was long. But I figured I owed it to you all to come back with a good chapter. It was a good chapter...right? Jennette's YT video of her singing Home Sweet Home obviously inspired that part of this chapter. As you can see things are the same with things not being the same. As in: Sam's starting to get some feelings other than gas or missing her best friend. What can they be? Hmmm. Anyway, chapter 7 WILL be up sometime this week, since I've already got the next three chapters planned out perfectly. There will be a can of beer, a pool, and a shirtless Gibby, all I'm saying. Speaking of shirtless Gibbies, make sure you check out iPsycho coming on tonight. Even though they basically gave away the conclusion in the promos, I'm still looking forward to it. To think there's a more crazy fan than Mandy out there. **

**Before I go, I always thought about something and now I wanna ask you guys. To anyone that watches Victorious, doesn't Jade somewhat remind you of Sam-and doesn't Jade and Beck (Jeck, I guess you would call them) somewhat remind you of Seddie, or what Seddie would be? Note Freddie is more dorky than Beck, but the love/hate relationship between those two make me smile. So just like Seddie, I'm rooting for Jeck, and I hope Dan won't do what I think he will which is break them up and have Beck fall for Tori. Nooo, don't do it, Dan!  
**


	7. Temporary Insanity

**A/N: Yay, I'm updating. I'm actually posting up three things tonight, so I'm happy =D. And I hope you enjoy tonight's installment of another Seddie chapter. This chapter is shorter than some of the others-at least it felt that way while I was typing it-so I hope you still enjoy! Thank you sooo much for all of my previous reviews and it makes me feel so awesome to know that there are still people out there hanging on with me through this long journey. Okay, onward to my story.**

**DISCLAIMER: (Dan Schneider): Hey! You don't own iCarly! I do! (me): I know that. Thank you, Catherine Obvious! (Dan): ...What? (me): I said "thank you, Catherine Obvious!" (Dan): ...it's "Captain" Obvious (me): You mean, it's not Catherine! (Dan): No! Who would Catherine be! (me): ...Catherine could be a captain! -_Victorious reference...sorry_-**

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* * *

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Spencer danced down the hallway to his apartment door moving the grocery bag back and forth in his hand. The song he heard on the radio permanently stitched itself into his brain, and he couldn't stop the funk from coursing through him. He didn't feel like it either. No one, after all, can stop the funk of Spencer Shay.

"_Babaay won't you take me back_," he sung as he was turning the key to his door, "_I said it, I said it, I said it, I said it, I_—HEY," he shouted in surprise as he paused and stepped inside. "It's two familiar looking teenagers sitting in my apartment and eating my caramel popcorn."

Sam lazily raised her hand up as a quick greeting, and Freddie filled his mouth with more caramel delicacies.

"Sup Spence."

"¿cómo te va tio?"

Spencer could do nothing but shrug his shoulders and kick the door closed behind him. "Usually in this moment I would question why this would be—specifically how Sam was able to unlock both locks on the door—but because of my laziness I'm just gonna sigh," he sighed, "and walk away," and he headed over to the island in the kitchen.

Freddie lifted his head. "Hey, how do you know it wasn't _me_ who unlocked the door?"

But Spencer smiled and pointed to his face, clearly finding the question comical. "Does this expression tell you what I'm about to say to that?"

Freddie slumped back down. "Yes."

"Nice try, Fredlumps, but the thought of you tryin to pick a lock of _anything_ is too laughable to take seriously."

"Your face is too"— But Sam shot him one of her menacing glares that made Freddie rethink his insult. "Too…pretty and such things…"

"Good nub."

"So…" Spencer started once he was finished putting up toilet paper-underneath the kitchen sink questioningly. "Why aren't you guys goin out to those sock hops and soda parlors or whatever teenagers do nowadays?"

Sam laughed. "Dude, they didn't even have sock hops and soda parlors when _you_ were a kid."

"There is supposed to be this senior party tonight," Freddie started while turning the TV.

"Yeah, but Freddie's too chicken to go," Sam sighed and threw a caramel corn at his head.

"I'm not chicken! It's just that my mom is gone on one of her Aggressive Parenting conventions and I don't want anything bad to happen while she's gone."

"Your mother is gone for the next two days and you think this is a _bad_ time to go to a party? Replay that sentence back in your head and tell me if that makes sense."

"Sam's got a point," Spencer butted in, leaning against the counter top. "If there was a perfect time to sneak out and do some awesome stuff, it would be now."

Both Freddie and Sam gave him puzzling looks.

"And yes," he continued. "I do realize I am an adult telling you this."

Freddie pursed his lips in thought. "Eh…I don't know." Sam was about to hit Freddie with one of many reasons why they should go, but was halted from speaking when Spencer got a text on his phone.

"OMG, it's her, it's her, SHUTUUUP!"

"Dude, no one's talking—"

"Shhh…."

Sam rolled her eyes and Freddie glanced at the two. "So who is it, anyway?"

"_Laaiiiiney_," Spencer cooed.

"Who's _Laaiiiiney_?" mocked Sam.

Freddie lifted his head. "Oh, isn't that that new first grade teacher who moved in downstairs?"

"Maybe. Possibly. I don't know. Shut uuup," but his smile gave it away and he hid his head behind his phone to hide his rising blush.

Freddie grinned tauntingly toward Spencer. "Aw, someone looks smitten."

Sam chuckled. "Smitten. You know that is such a funny word."

"Rhymes with mittens and kittens."

She smiled as she caught on. "Yeah, hey: _the smitten kittens couldn't find their mittens_."

"_So they asked their mama who was cooking in the kitchen_."

But she lost her smile and slugged back down on the couch. "Great."

"What?"

"See? You just ruined it."

"How did I ruin it?"

"Dude, kitchen doesn't rhyme with smitten, kittens, or mittens."

"Uh, yeah it does: kit-_chen_, smit-_ten_."

"No, not all the way. The rhyme is slanted."

"Your head is slanted."

"Your mom is slanted!"

"Spencer! Sam called my mom slanted."

"Well, she is pretty mentally askew…" and he walked toward the door signaling for his teenage friends to leave. "But now it's time for you guys to slant yourselves right on out of here."

"Aw…I'm too tired to exert energy into my legs though." But the classic Sam excuse did not faze Spencer. He simply shrugged and hauled her small form over his shoulder, carrying her out of his apartment. Ah…it felt good to remind himself every so often that he was in fact, stronger than Sam when he needed to be.

"Ugh, dude!" She yelled as he set her down outside the hall.

Spencer turned back to Freddie. "Do you want me to haul your small form over my shoulder and carry you out of my apartment?"

"Uh, no thanks, I'm good," and he followed Sam's path outside. It didn't hit Sam until the sound of the door closing vibrated in her ears: she was alone on a Saturday night with nothing to do. Alone…with a Freddie.

"Ahh, that's it!" She tugged on Freddie's arm and dragged him to the exit. Freddie started to panic.

"Uhh, Sam, where are we going?"

"66 Harbor View Lane: aka to that party!"

"Bu-but Sam, I said"—

"And I don't care. All I know is that I'm not gonna waste a Saturday alone with my cat, or with you sitting in nothingness."

* * *

"Alright! Now this is what I'm talking about! Hundreds of sweaty crazy teenagers dancing it out on old people furniture!"

As always, against his will, Freddie and Sam were now at the senior party, and in the midst of unrecognizable seniors and alcohol. Sam jumped up and grabbed on to his shoulders. "You smell that, Freddie?"

He sniffed the air. "Uh…axe and teenage hormones?"

"No! Armpit sweat!"

"Ew," and he shrugged away from her odor and walked away from the cramped living room and into the kitchen. He was impressed. It was recessed lighting everywhere with an open bar and marble counter tops. In spite of his lack of comfort here he had to admit: if there was one house worthy of throwing a house party in, it would be this one. There were at least ten prize statues in the foyer alone that begged to be broken and a gigantic pool in the back yard that was waiting to be turned into a half-pipe. Freddie decided to take a seat behind one of the kitchen counters, but decided against it when a couple started devouring each other's tongues beside him. "Um...excuse me," he coughed awkwardly and scooted two seats down. He swiveled in his stool to gaze out at the huge crowd in the living room. Hm...he couldn't see Sam anymore.

_As long as she's not lighting something on fire I'm sure she's fine_, he thought, then flinched, _or someone_...

"Hey bartender!" Freddie turned back when hearing that familiar call. "Let me get a sparkling apple juice-_on the rocks_."

Freddie shook his head. Of course: it was the one, the only, the Gibby.

One of the guys talking behind the counter paused and turned to Gibby. "Uh, dude," he laughed. "This isn't a bar, I'm not a bar tender, and what the hell is _sparkling __apple juice__ on the rocks_?"

Freddie leaned his palm against the counter top, interested in where this was going. Gibby tugged at the ends of his polo and pulled it over his head-once again exposing his entire flabby man chest.

"How bout now?" he smirked. But the three guys in front of him were not amused and walked away, occasionally pointing back at the shirtless weirdo and laughing harder.

"Aw, mustard..." Gibby sighed and walked behind the counter to find his own beverage. He pulled out a golden can from a cooler and eyed it for a second before shrugging. "Eh, I guess this is juice," and popped open the tab. Freddie shook his head while watching all of it, and finally decided to intervene for his friend. He leaned across the counter and pulled the can away from him.

"This isn't juice, Gibby, it's beer."

Gibby paused. "Oh... Well, mind if I take a seat?"

Freddie sat the open can down in front of him. "Go ahead, I'm sure you'll give me better company than that couple over there," and he pointed to the two from before, seconds away from ripping each other's clothes off. Gibby stared before looking away. "Steamy. So um, where's Sam?"

"Eh, somewhere over there. Being Sam. You know I didn't even wanna come here, but she dragged me. You figured she could've just come alone if she wanted to be here so badly."

"Yeah, right. You guys are like, always together somewhere."

"Yeah, but she's always having the fun. I'm the one paying the fine or suffering from the physical abuse."

"Well what do you expect from a girl like Sam? Even as your girlfriend she still treats you like that."

Freddie choked on his spit-yes, spit, that's how shocked he was-and gave his friend a skeptic look. "Um...girlfriend?"

"Um, yeah."

"You think...Sam is my...my _what_ now?"

Gibby kept nodding in confusion. "Yeah, isn't she-wait...so you guys _aren't_ dating?"

"Nu-oh!"

"Oooohhhhh..."

"Why on earth would you ever think I would date a…a…a Sam Puckett?"

"Well Carly's not here and people have been noticing things and you two still do everything together and you guys laugh a lot and please don't kill me, I'm squeamish!"

"Gibby?"

"Huh?"

"Run."

And in a matter of semi-seconds Gibby was gone. Freddie was seriously contemplating on running after him but decided against it. He was still in shock from his words, after all. Was that the opinion of only one Gibby, or did everyone get the idea that him and Sam were an item?

An item...

_HA!_

He had to message Carly about this: this was hilarious. He was about to reach for his phone but paused. Wait...what exactly had people thinking he and Sam were together anyway? Sure...they spent almost every minute of the day somewhat in each other's company whether it was through texts or actual contact, but that was because it was just Sam with him now. Carly was gone, and that affected Sam just as much as it did him. It was just a common thing to hang out since that was all that was left, right? And Sam was his friend. Sure, she was evil and vicious, but it wasn't as if his world would collapse if he didn't admit that very true fact. She was a best friend. Why was it written in stone that two people couldn't stay friends without there being some secret underlying feelings between them? He changed his mind: it would be more hilarious if he told Sam first than Carly. She would probably laugh even harder at the thought.

In fact, that's what he wanted to do: laugh. He was positive Sam was out there somewhere enjoying her night, so why couldn't he? He shot a glance at the beer can that was still in front of him. He saw too many after school specials that warned kids of the dangers of drinking at a high school party, and he definitely wasn't stupid enough to actually get drunk, but maybe he could become just careless enough to take a sip.

Yeah...one sip.

* * *

Sam elbowed all the passing people in her way and tried to make it out of the entry way. She caught their friend Wendy trying to call out her name behind her.

"Hey, Sam, they're starting a water basketball game in the pool! You wanna play?"

"Eh, not now. First I have to go find Fredweird."

"Alright," and they went their separate ways. Sam kept pushing until she found herself in the kitchen. She had to pause as she soaked in the marble counter tops and all its glory. "Wow…Now I could cook a crap load of meat in here." She had to hand it to whoever was the host of this party. He sure knew how to take advantage of his parent's wealth by inviting hundreds of crazy teenagers inside. When searching some more she spotted a slumped over figure in a red flannel shirt over on one of the barstools. She knew immediately that that was Freddie. She smirked at how tired he looked. They've only been there for about an hour and already he was passed out in boredom. "Typical dweeb," she sighed, made her way over, and shook his shoulders.

"Yo, Fredifer, get up and play some basketball with me!" But he moaned and turned to his side, grabbing a hold of Sam's hand and tucking it under his head. Sam flinched.

"Ughhh…" he rasped out. "But I don't want my vitamin powder in my fruit sauce, Mom…"

"Uh, dude," she snickered realizing he was dreaming, "wake up."

"Fine…" and he started to stick her fist into his mouth before she snatched it away.

"The hell! Wake UP man!" and she pushed his head harder. He slurred for a moment before fluttering his eyes open.

"Sam…? What are you doing in my fruit sauce?"

"Uh, I think you have some fruit sauce in your brain," she quipped, but lowered her tone when she saw the crushed beer can in his right hand. "…and I think it was laced with alcohol."

She snatched the can away and waved it around his face. "You had a beer? Since when did you get that daring, Fredward?"

"About the same time you got...that...that...ugh, it's not fair you always get to have the better comebacks!"

Sam threw the crushed can at his head so as to wake him up from his stupidity. Clearly he was drunk; otherwise she would've seized the opportunity to make fun of him further for being so reckless. Why torment him when he wouldn't be able to remember it? She pulled him away from the counter instead and wrapped his arm around her shoulder, carrying most of his weight as she made her way to the backyard. Freddie hiccupped as they walked.

"And whe—where are y—you taking m—me?"

"Home. Where you should've been all along. Jeez, Benson, I can't take you anywhere."

"Oh c-come on, Sam, I just wanted to have a l-little fun."

"A little fun? You're drunk, dude."

"Drunk? O-oh no…my girlfriend won't be too happy about t-this."

"What girlfriend?"

"I don't know. Gibby said I had one."

"Well Gibby's one layer short of a lasagna. Now I just gotta go out by the pool for a minute. I think I left my jacket on one of the chairs," and they soon reached outside in front of the pool.

"Here, use mine," and he began unbuttoning his shirt as if it was a jacket. But Sam hurriedly tugged away and moved his hands away from his chest.

"Quit it, Freddie, that's not a jacket!"

"It's not…?" But he pulled her shoulder back when she was about to pull away.

"Hey wait," he held on to her arms and stared, but in a way that made her extremely uncomfortable. His bloodshot eyes grew wide and his jaw loosened as he inched closer. "I can't believe I didn't notice it before…"

"Notice w-what…" It was Sam's turn to stutter.

"Your face…it's really…" and as he spoke he moved closer, closing the gap between them until noses touched. Temporarily losing his footing—and his sanity—Freddie fell into Sam and brushed his lips on hers. The sensation shook Sam all over, but it was cut short when she pushed him off and accidentally into the pool. She clasped onto her mouth as she watched him splatter in the water, and was very willing to leave him there in punishment of his stupid, STUPID move, but figured leaving a drunk person to fend for himself in a pool wasn't very wise—not even on her part. She blew out in heavy frustration and jumped into the pool after him, saving him so that she could murder him later on.

* * *

"Gimme your key."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"It's in my pocket."

"Well I'm not reachin in there! You get it!"

"I can't—It's in the pocket of my other jacket in my room."

Both were now in the hallway of the Shay's and Freddie's apartment. Sam reluctantly drove him home and carried Freddie to her door, but after hearing that, she lost her patience and dropped him onto the hard floor to massage her temples. "This is just great…"

"OW!" he singed in pain as he hit the hardwood. "My head is about to implode and you just made it worse!"

"Shut up, Freddie!"

Her lips were still tingling with the memory of that…incident…and she wanted nothing more than to drop him off and permanently erase what happened from her mind. Instinctively, she reached in her hair and plucked out a bobby pin to pick his lock. After tugging off the top chain from the wall, she barged in and hauled the intoxicated nub over her shoulder and up his stairs, wanting desperately to haul him off and run away from the awkward that was enveloping them. Well, her anyway. He still had a glazed over look in his eye as she threw him on his Galaxy Wars comforter set.

"There," she called over her shoulder as she started to exit. "You're at home now so let it stay that way. I'm out."

"Wait," he called back, one leg hanging over the edge of his bed and his face muffled in his pillow.

"Whaaaat?"

"…Thanks…" he coughed.

...

Damn it.

She was so close.

She was _so_ close to turning that door handle and rushing out the room. But watching him lay like that, clutching onto his short russet hair and sighing in pain, gave her a stinging feeling in her chest. Whether it was her conscience, or gas, she couldn't fight it and she ended up closing the door and sitting on the floor opposite Freddie's bedside. She positioned herself so that she wouldn't be able to look him directly in the face, and leaned against the wall in a huff.

"You got two hours," she grumbled. "So I suggest you take advantage of that and don't mess with me again." She found herself touching her bottom lip gently.

"Ahh…" he whined as he squirmed around on top of his sheets. "I only had one can of that stupid beer…"

She smirked. "Only you, Freddie, would get drunk off of one can of beer."

"Yeah, and I'm never gonna do it again."

"That better not be the only thing you're never gonna do again."

He poked open an eyelid. "Huh?"

"You know what I'm talking about."

"No, not really."

She raised a brow and moved closer to him with caution. "Wait…so you really don't remember anything?"

"Well, I remember getting water in my ears…and a twisting feeling in my gut"— and as soon as having said that, he jerked up and covered his mouth. "Oh no…"

"What?"

"It's coming back. OH MOMMY!"

And at the sound of that, Sam needed to know no more and she raced for the waste basket in the corner, and ran back to shove it under Freddie's chin and watch as he immediately spewed pink and brown chunks into the can. She couldn't believe she was here: Freddie was drunk and was puking his heart out into a matching Galaxy Wars trash can, and she was there right alongside him to guide him through it all. Since when did she grow to be so considerate?

And she should've been ecstatic that he didn't remember the kiss…but her lips still could not stop from tingling.

* * *

**A/N: This chapter was a bit fun for me since I could portray Freddie as the "drunk one" in opposition to Sam in my other story, Speak Low if You're Sober. Next chapter will explore Sam's feelings about the kiss a little more, which will be more interesting! I really hope you enjoyed it once again! **

**REVIEW**


	8. Enough for Now

**A/N: Yes, I know this was a long update, but I've been working on two things I think will make you guys pretty happy! But for now, I hope this chapter will make you happy, and I'll explain more at the end of this installment. So, I hope you enjoy.**

**DISCLAIMER: this is the last time I'm doing one of these because I've already established in every way possible that _I do not own iCarly_. So yup, last time. **

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* * *

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Never again was Sam going to follow the example of a good Samaritan and do the right thing, because that never got her anywhere, and her current condition was proof of that.

She sprawled herself across her mattress, clutching a used tissue to her nose. She sighed. No matter how hard she blew, she still felt muffled and miserable. Her clogged nasal passages and rising fever were proof that she was sick, and she only developed it that Saturday night, as soon as she came home from watching over Freddie. He fell asleep which gave Sam the perfect time to escape and head home. She was surprised to find out she stayed in his room well into midnight, getting into her own room at around one in the morning. All that stupid time was spent giving him water and watching over his drunken form, making sure be didn't do anything more reckless. And where did that get her? Sick. At home. Bored as hell. Missing school.

Actually, the last part wasn't all that bad-it was rather comforting to know she actually had an excuse to slack off. She also didn't have to see Freddie, which was also a huge plus. He was probably out of his hangover stage right now-and thankful to God that his mother had no clue about Saturday's festivities-so he was probably at school, but Sam still couldn't understand what made her so relieved not to see him. Maybe it was that kiss...

She shook her head violently against her pillow shaking away the thought. What the hell was she doing thinking about things like that? He even said himself that he didn't remember anything, so she had nothing to fear. But still...she couldn't wrap her head around it. About two years ago they been on that path before, and each swore to never ever do that again. So Freddie was a complete idiot for breaking that promise that night, even if he was wasted. They haven't talked at all since Saturday, besides your occasional text, so it made Sam wonder just how long she could go ignoring the fact that she knew. Hell, as long as it would keep things normal she would hold that secret to her grave.

It were times like these she was glad Carly was gone, because otherwise it would be impossible for her to hold something like this to herself. But from the message she got from Carly last week about her coming back for a few days for Thanksgiving, it helped her forget about the current crappines of life. She'll be with her best friend again in a matter of days. Thank god.

Sam was reaching for another tissue when her phone rang. She stretched lazily for her cell and groaned when she read the incoming call. "Freddie."

Hm, could she get away with pressing that little red button? No, that would make it obvious she was avoiding him. Maybe she should wait it out and let it reach voicemail. But after a while he'd grow suspicious. It seemed like the only thing she could do was answer. Aw, damn it.

"Whaaaat?" she spat as an impolite greeting.

"_Ahh, so I see you have a cold, that explains it_."

"Explains what?"

"_Why you're not at school_," she could hear a quiet chuckle coming, "_and why it sounded like you said butt just now_."

"Whatever. My whereabouts should not concern you."

"_Wow, someone's testy. And besides, you missed the Physics review for that test tomorrow._"

"The only thing I'm missing right now is sloppy joe day in the caf. You know if I were you, I would milk the hangover stage for all it's worth and miss school today. What, you value your education that much to show up?."

"_Well, more like perfect attendance record. My mom said she'd buy me that new Pinnacle chip for my laptop if I got a perfect one this year_."

"Ha, and tell me is that offer off the table when it comes to getting drunk—"

"SHHHHH! Hey, that goes in the vault! For sake and for my life she will never know about that. No one will."

"Aw, shucks, and I was gonna call Carly and laugh at—"

"_Hey, that reminds me. Thanksgiving break is next week._"

"Yeah, so?"

"_So I won't be here. We're drivin up to my aunt Jenifer's that weekend_."

Sam stayed silent for a moment before shrugging. "Oh. No biggies. I figure me and Carls can just—"

"_Wait, you and Carly? What, Spencer didn't tell you?_"

"Tell me what?"

"_There was a last minute change. Carly's dad decided to fly Spence to Japan for that week so they can spend Thanksgiving together before Carly comes back next month._"

And that's when her small ounce of happiness came crashing. "….What."

"_Yeah, Sam, Spencer said he told you already._"

"Wha…well…well you know I don't listen to people when they tell me things!"

"_Sam…_"

"What, Benson?"

"_You okay?_"

"Yeah, I'm fine," she passed, itching to hang up the phone. "Go, enjoy Turkey day with your cranky aunt Jenifer. I'll just be here as usual, don't worry bout Sam_._"

"_But—_"

"I gotta go…give my cat a tick bath, later," and she hung up and sunk back down against her pillow, clearly intending on NOT giving her cat a tick bath.

* * *

"Alright guys, the bell is about to ring and after that you'll be on your way to freedom. But remember: after this Thanksgiving break we're diving right into review for the finals, so don't party too hard and forget all we've learned this semester."

Sam let the words of her teacher fly past her ears and stepped out of the classroom the second the final bell rung. Something told her that she wouldn't be partying hard these next few days anyway. That is…if you count sitting on the couch and watching 90's cartoon reruns partying hard. Then in that case then yeah, she was gonna have a riot.

At least the last remnants of her cold went away yesterday, so she no longer had to worry about depleting her tissue supply at home while sitting down doing nothing. And the last few days gave her enough time to realize that Carly was not coming home just yet. She had so far spent five months without her, so toughing up one more couldn't be too hard. She headed to her locker expecting Freddie to be there. She knew he was leaving later on that night as well, but at least he would be there to drive her home.

She kicked at his locker out of boredom while impatiently waiting for the dweeb to come by. She wasn't as upset when it came to Freddie leaving. Him gone for a while would also mean her awkwardness would leave with him. Yeah, yeah, Freddie knew absolutely nothing about the kiss, so her feelings were completely one-sided, but it wouldn't hurt to still get away. The time she's been spending with him lately was getting a bit dangerous. He was beginning to be her rock, her best friend and a means of escapism. All of that was potential disaster for the trio dynamic, so some separation time would only benefit them in the long run. It was now five minutes since the last bell rung, and the buses were beginning to depart. "Ugh, where is that mamma's boy when I need him?"

Reaching for her phone ready to type a very angry-worded text message to him, she noticed an unread one herself and opened it up:

_Sam, I got checked out early today to help my mom go shopping for some banana-cranberry sauce. Yeah…I don't know, either. But I won't be there to drive you home, so make sure you read this so you can catch the bus, all right? _

"Oh, dude…." What was she going to do now? She heaved her bag over her shoulder and dashed out to the front of the school, but the last of the buses were already leaving.

"I swear this is some unbelievable chizz right now…" and with screaming at no one in particular, she started on the sidewalk and walked home.

* * *

Sam stretched her limbs out on her mattress, trying to catch the colorful little eye-floaters that always moved from her sight when she looked away from the light.

Yep, just as she expected, she was having a riveting time right now.

She came home about an hour earlier from school, only to find a note from her mom that she was off on another date, this time with a pastry chef. Frothy was in a Meow-mix induced coma and she had nothing left to do but to sit on her couch and watch TV. That was until she turned it on to be greeted with scramble vision and realized that her mother forgot to pay the cable bill. So here she was, with nothing left to do but to drown in the dullness that was currently her life.

"Ah, damn it all! Damn it all to hell!"

Just then, that familiar knocking sounded from her window and distracted Sam from her cursing. She rolled out of bed and pulled open her blinds and window. And unfortunately, one of the sources of her frustration was standing right on the other side of the window frame. Freddie shrugged as a greeting.

"Are you gonna make a habit of this?" she sighed as she helped him up anyway.

"Probably. I don't want to risk knocking on your front door again and seeing your mom all…exposed," and he shuddered.

She sat back on her bed. "Well, you don't have to worry about that. Tonight she's on date number 642: a pastry chef."

He ruffled his hair and offered himself the space on the bed across from her. "Well that can't be too bad. If it's like last time with that butcher guy, she'll probably bring home some cupcakes or something."

"Oh yay, lucky me," she said dryly and preoccupied herself with the stitching on her comforter. The heavy feeling in her chest was returning with him just sitting there, and she figured as long as she didn't look at him she wouldn't have to think about what was troubling her. Freddie bit his lip as he stared at her, clearly feeling pity.

"Soooo…what are you gonna do for Thanksgiving?"

She caught his stare and shook her head. "Oh you know, I'll probably curl up next to the fireplace and pop open a can of spam and moldy bread, while my mother is passed out on the floor from OD'ing on her sleeping pills."

Freddie didn't catch the sarcasm and hung open his jaw while Sam just scoffed and shoved him in the shoulder. "_Kidding_. The way you're lookin at me though seems as if you think I'm a charity case or somethin. I'll be fine, dude. Melanie's just busy and all and we don't have the money for airfare right now to see her. Anyway I feel sorry for you: having to spend a week with family, and no teenage contact."

He looked away. "Yeah I guess."

"So, is your mom gonna kill you for being here right now?"

"Nah, she doesn't know. She's putting in some last hours at the hospital before we go."

"Sneaking out once again, huh? You know I'm starting to think I'm becoming a bad influence on you," she said in all seriousness.

"Wrong. Just because I like hanging out with you doesn't mean I'll be molded into another meat-loving maniac."

But she couldn't deliver another remark back. She looked at him, wondering if he took his words just as seriously as she did. She definitely had to check herself. Being with Freddie so much wasn't exactly healthy. Maybe that's what the cold resulted from-breaking the boundaries of her tolerance for kindness by helping him probably threw her body chemicals out of whack, and the only way she could return to normal is to slow things down with him.

She was jerked out of her thoughts when Freddie's phone buzzed. He read his new text and quickly hopped off her bed.

"Well, that was my mom. She's off work now and I gotta help her finish packing."

"Sounds like oodles of fun..."

"Eh, not really. Well, see you later," and he had one foot out her window when he paused. Sam raised a curious brow at his actions.

"Hey Sam."

"What?"

"You think you'll miss me?"

Great. As if Sam wasn't confused enough already. "W-what? Pshh, as if, don't be all smug, Fredweird."

He shook his head but didn't hide his smile. "Alright Sam, whatever. I'll be back in a couple days."

And she watched him head off in silence. Thankfully, she fought the urge to give him a smile as a send-off. She was still mad at him for that kiss, after all.

* * *

**A/N: Well, this didn't end how I originally mapped out in my head, but I'm glad where it ended up. This was another short chapter, but it showed just what I needed it to. Now the other two things I've been working on this time were another Seddie story, and a tv script for a high school drama. The Seddie story is a multi-chapter fic, and it's more mature than all of the other stories I've done so far. You could say it's a continuation of _Sober_, but it's also a story that could stand on its own. I should have the first chapter posted later on in the week. The high school drama script is an exercise I'm doing for myself, since I want to be a screenwriter. I would post it up on Fictionpress, but I'm not sure if they allow script-like stories on their site. These projects are probably a result of my boredom/writers block, but I hope you guys will love them anyway! Well, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and more will be coming!**


	9. When It Rains

_**A/N: This story has been eating me alive, so if I'm finishing it I'm going to finish it right. Let's see how this goes...**_

* * *

"Welcome to Chili My Bowl where we fill your overbearing gut with a smile. Now how may I satisfy your mammoth appetite today?"

The boy in front of the counter no more than ten frowned at the blonde waitress before him. "Is that really what you're s'pposed to say?"

"Listen, Pudgy, are you gonna sit here and criticize my words or are you gonna order double your weight in chili that'll probably make you gain ten pounds but you don't care cuz your mama fuels your denial with confidence-boosting praises like "oh you're not fat, you're just big boned" and "don't listen to those kids, you're just a little husky" with some extra "baby fat" sprinkled on top?"

The little boy continued to furrow his brow, the big words scaring him. "…Huh?"

The blonde rolled her eyes. "Hey kid, follow that pea-sized intuition of yours and realize that I just insulted you. You're gonna have to buck up for life's future endeavors, dude, and I'm bored, so come on! Bite me back, give me a hard one!"

"Huh…?"

"What am I, ham on a log? Diss me good, make me cry, INSULT ME!"

Too bad the crazy blonde girl's tone scared him too much to follow, for he burst in tears and ran away from the counter with a "Mooommmmyyyy! The chili lady called me fat and is making me cryyyyyyy!"

She smirked, finding amusement in the way he ran. "Heheh, like a penguin begging to be tipped over."

"SAAMM!"

Uh-oh. Sam knew that cry. Most people around here knew him as Frank the Manager, but she liked to call him the Seattle Cold One, for she compiled a list of evidence that supported the theory he was a vampire.

She turned, ignoring the scowling, potential pitchfork-hurling angry mob of customers behind her. "Yes, cold one-I mean, Frank?"

"Did you just scare away another customer?"

"Hey, fueling the insecurities of people is a hobby of mine. Just think of it as me fulfilling all of my strengths and working at my greatest potential."

"Well STOP doing that!" and he pointed a pasty white index finger to his chest. Sam analyzed it more closely. Yup, that was the finger of a cold one, alright.

"LOOK, I know you need this job just as much as I need people to work for me this holiday season, so just scratch my back and I'll scratch yours, okay?"

She pondered for a second. "Is that…really a suggestion to scratch your back? Because I've been wondering what it looks like when reflected by light and—"

"SAM!"

"Okay! Okay!"

His pale finger moved in the direction of the customers behind her. "Now, take this young man's order and I won't fire you—"

She sighed beneath her breath. "Not like I've never been fired before…"

"Out of a cannon."

Oh. Alright, dude was serious. She blew out a big one and turned to face the customers not-so-patiently waiting for their order to be taken.

"Welcome to Chili My Bowl where we fill your overbearing gut with a smile. How may I satisfy your—"

"Sam?"

Huh…? Wait a minute…she new that voice, that semi-deep, post pubescent, slightly nerdy voice. She glanced up immediately.

"Freddie?"

He rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. "Yeah, I just flew back in this morning. What are you doing working at Chili My Bowl—again? I thought you said you'd never set foot in one of their establishments again?"

Sam took all but a second to soak him all in, almost unsure of what her eyes were registering. _Wait…question, question, he asked me a question. Answer, idiot!_ "Uh yeah, well my mom was holding out on the cable bill and I needed something to watch my shows, and Chili My Bowl was the only place hiring soooo soon so here I am, sucking up to the corporate asses."

He chuckled. "Good to see you working hard, though," apparently he wasn't present for the incident that took place a few minutes ago.

And before she could object her subconscious took over. "Pfft, as if. Wanna grab a smoothie?"

He cocked his head around the food court. "But uh, aren't you working?"

Sam took all but two seconds to contemplate the repercussions of quitting, but not fearing any of them she threw her beyond-dorky hat to the floor and jumped across the counter to her freedom. "Not anymore!"

It was a pretty impressive move but Freddie expected it. It was Sam, after all. "Aaaaand your cable bill?"

"Already taken care of. The cold one over there prepaid me for the week and it's already in my account. Crappy system that works in my favor!"

"Err…cold one?"

At the sound of his name being uttered, Frank stormed out of his office to be bombarded by the wave of dissatisfied, overbearing guts. He tried to calm down the customers while searching for the culprit, only to find her gawking over some kid in a red polo.

"SAAMMMM!"

Sam jerked at the cry and began pulling on Freddie's arm. "Uh oh, he heard us. Let's go before he bites our necks and turns us into one of his vampire minions!"

"Vampire…wait—what?" But his confusion went unattended, and Sam led them to the exit.

* * *

Something was wrong. Something was terribly out of whack in Sam's system. For every time Freddie would utter something, her stomach would either spit butterflies or do Olympic dives into the pool of her gut. Seriously, what was up with her? The whole bus ride to Freddie's apartment while they talked about what they did for the past four days of vacation, Sam couldn't shake that happy, that "now I'm not terribly alone" feeling that negated all of the other crap life seemed to love throwing at her. She couldn't even follow most of this conversation because she was too stuck on it.

"…And because _I_ had to pay for all the damages, I didn't have any extra money to get my car out the shop. So now I'm back to riding buses until my mom gets paid."

"Mmn…"

"Sam? Sam?"

"Yah…?"

He smirked, stretching his arms to the back of his seat. "What's up with you? You've been silent most of the ride."

After the mental slap, she stretched her leg on her seat to face him better. "Uh…it's nothing, Freddie. I mean, I don't have much to report except that this was a pretty sober holiday for me. My mom ordered Chinese since she burned our turkey and I've been working most hours to help her out. And, you know, to fuel me from my boredom."

She saw the look he gave her as he played with the loose thread from his jacket. "What?"

He bit his lip. "…Permission to feel sorry for you?"

She rolled her eyes. "Permission denied."

"Oh come on, Sam. Sure I had to put up with whiny cousins and an overprotective mom, but that's nothing compared to what you…_didn't_ have. Hey, I would've found a way to shove you in my suitcase or something if it would've helped. Well, maybe."

She shrugged him off. "Thanks for the sympathizing thought, Freddie, but I'm fine. Being a Puckett you learn how to adjust to these things." Then she puffed out her chest. "Mama's strong!"

"Yeah, you are. I'll give you that."

Then the punch she just gave him to his arm would've once made him curl over in pain, but he just raised a brow as he looked back and forth between her and her fist. "And that was for…?"

"Hm, I'm impressed. Looks like you've grown a bit stronger yourself, Freddie."

Alright, Freddie couldn't hold it in anymore. This had to be commented on. "Seriously, Sam, what's up?"

"Ugh, what now?"

He reached forward to press his palm to her forehead, trying to guesstimate her temperature. "You feel fine…"

"Take it off before I break it off, Freddie."

"See, _that right there_! You've called me Freddie all day today. No Fredwierdo, Fredlumps, or Fredburger. What, are you running out of material, or is this a new thing for you, changing up the established roles of our friendship?"

She parted, closed, parted, closed, and parted those pink lips of hers. Hm…that was true, wasn't it? Briefly playing today's events in her mind, she couldn't find one degrading nickname. It was embarrassing, even for her. But in these situations what was a girl to do? Play it off, that's what.

"Oh…well not even Fredduccini. My mind's just stuck in a yawn, ya know, haziness. Can the estrogen, stop being a girl."

Amusement crossed him. "Yeah, okay, I'll just stop being that," and he rolled his eyes, clearly playing with her. But Sam just broke away and stared out the window that was beginning to collect raindrops. Too focused on the fact that she didn't have a hood or an umbrella she didn't realize when the bus stopped in her neighborhood.

"Hey, Sam."

"Huh?" She shot up then looked back and forth between the window and Freddie. "Oh… Weeelllp, looks like I'm at my humble abode." She rose and headed for the exit. "Later, dude."

"Yeah," he stared after her, "later."

But he stopped her before the door opened. "You know," he called, "actually, I'm not ready to go home just yet. With spending 168 hours with my mother kinda makes me dread spending another second with her—_don't tell her I said that_. So wanna go hang out or grab a pizza or something?"

Before the offer could register Sam already found herself stepping down. No big deal, really, she just wasn't interested. "Nah, I'm just gonna go crash. Working has gotten me pretty beat so…"

Freddie wasn't fazed either and just casually tossed the offer aside. "Yeah, you know considering if you can even call that work."

"Right, right. Sooo… laters, Fredmund."

"Eh, later Puckett."

And the conversation ended with the squeak of the shutting door and the rain kerplunking on her head.

* * *

_And that was that._ Sam decided to stick with that state of mind. Let things be how they are. Stop trying to find a solution to the unattainable, the unexplainable. With worrying so much about what she may or may not be feeling, she forgot the joy of feeling absolutely nothing, of relaxing. Basically, _stop thinking so much, chick_, she thought to herself.

So here she was, alone in her room with an absent mother enjoying the day out with her current beau, thunder pounding against the walls, static vision illuminating the room. But it didn't matter because she was relaxed. All of this was normal, she thought. Enjoy what already is and stop looking for something that isn't.

Yup, that's what she'll do.

_And that was that. _

* * *

Freddie adjusted the place mats and set the silverware on the table. As much as he just wanted a simple pizza, his mother went pro-health on him and dished up a tofurkey casserole with creamed corn and…and was that…grass? He leaned over his mother's shoulder as she carried the unidentified meal to the table.

"Mom…are we eating a Chia Pet?"

"Don't make fun of dinner, honey. This is a sushi cake topped with seaweed and barley. It's one of the featured recipes listed in Aggressive Parenting Monthly."

"Will you ground me if I say this looks horrible?"

"Along with a deducted allowance."

"Theeeeeen this looks great! Can't wait to eat!"

She patted his head. "Good boy."

Before they could start their meal a knock sounded from the door. Freddie shot up and pounced for it. Taking an opportunity to stall eating that horrid dinner? Hell yeah, he is.

"ExcusememomI'llgetit!"

He opened it to reveal a soaked blonde ringing out her hair. "Sam? Oh god, my stomach thanks you!"

And this is where Sam expected things to get awkward. She was the one to flat out deny his offer to hang out a few hours ago, she was the one to keep him at a distance, to relax and stay home for awhile. Yet here she was, going against her resolve and taking a bus in the rain to see Freddie. What, was it to grub on his food since her mother had once again forgotten to go grocery shopping? Or to just hang out? Or to fill the rest of the day's hours with as many insults as she could conjure to make up for lost time?

Oh, what did she know? She was a basket case!

She was about to speak when Freddie signaled her to stay quiet and turned to his mother. "Hey, mom, I forgot that me and Sam made plans to eat at Groovie Smoothie today. Is it alright if I take a rain check on dinner? It is? Okay, bye! Sam, let's go!"

"Hold it, Mr. Prickly Pants!" she halted the two from leaving, as if she would fall for that. "Now I made this dinner for two and dang flabbit, I won't be rain checked, young man! Sam, you're just going to have to come back after dinner."

Having assessed the situation as awkward Sam slowly turned her heal toward the exit. "Ooookay then"—

"NO!" Freddie held her back. "I mean, mom! Why don't we allow Sam the gracious privilege of joining us for dinner and basking in your divine culinary skills? Why sheathe your talents and limit its access to just me and you, when instead you can share them with the world?"

Starlight twinkled in Mrs. Benson's eyes as she stared into the ominous vortex that was the fourth wall. "The world?"

"The world," he nodded.

Seconds passed by until Mrs. Benson finally pulled away from her daydream of starring on the cover of Aggressive Parenting. "All right, Samantha I suppose you can stay. Just come on in and wash your hands with the lemon scented antibacterial hand soap near the sink."

Sam shot glances back and forth to Freddie and the table. "Am I…going to regret this?"

"Probably, but I'm desperate."

"Desperate for a knuckle sandwich?"

"Honestly, that sounds more appetizing than what my mom's made."

Sam was inches from bailing but who was she fooling? She had nowhere else to go. Rolling her eyes she did as told and met Freddie at the table. She scoffed when she scanned the meal. "Is this a Chia Pet?"

* * *

"Stomach. Oh dear god, what have I done to you? Don't worry, mama'll make up for it later on tonight. Just you and me, kay?"

"Don't you sound weird," Freddie looked at her while putting his napkin over his plate.

Sam scowled. "Shut up, my stomach deserves some coddling right now. I can't believe I just ate that crap."

"You're so lucky my mom's in the bathroom—and even that's a little iffy cuz she has supersonic hearing."

"Please, if I was afraid of your mother she'd probably love me."

"And I'm guessing you don't want that."

"Nah, it kinda spoils half the fun of making fun of you all the time."

"You know she says all the time she doesn't get us. I don't think I do either. But eh, maybe one day it'll come to me."

She stared at him for a minute through the fuzzy screen of her bangs. "...that makes three of us..."

Before Freddie could reply Mrs. Benson returned, lemony artificial scent and all. "Oh Freddie before I forget," and she handed him a package that rested on the counter, "your SAT prep book came in the mail. I'll just be taking the shipping fee out of your car money."

"MOM!"

Sam tore open the wrapping. "Prep book? I thought the SAT was a test you couldn't study for?"

"Do you ever study for a test, Sam?" Mrs. Benson retorted before getting a sour tongue from Sam.

"Nah, you don't study the questions, you study the test itself."

"Eh?"

"SAT tests always have certain types of questions and you gotta know how they want you to think. You're basically cracking the brain of the system! And you're looking at the guy who's gonna crack the_ heeeeelll"_—he was careful about how to finish that sentence with his mom sitting right across from him with those snakelike eyes. He didn't miss Sam's chuckle.

"Wanna finish that sentence, there, kid?"

"Uh, _Hellman's mayonnaise jar _cuz boy can I use a nice refreshing after dinner snack of mayonnaise right now."

"Uh, ew."

But he had to follow through, especially with that award winning save. So he dashed to the refrigerator and, yes, dived a spoon into the mayonnaise jar and began slurping down.

Sam was enjoying this. "How's it, Benson?"

"Yummy! Ya know, like yogurt except..._disgusting_."

Sam's giggles rose to a hearty laugh until the snake eyes landed on her.

"Must you always find amusement in my son's pain?"

"But his pain is funny..."

She rolled her eyes while starting to clear the table. "You say that now but I bet you 50 million bucks once my son and everyone else is off to college you'll be stuck here alone laughing at your own pain. So ha, Sam, HA!"

"I think I should stop eating this now..."

Sam returned to her sour face. "And what makes you so sure that I won't be going to college too?"

"Are you?"

"I don't know..."

"Exactly."

"Mom, c'mon," Freddie could barely make out while using the sink nozzle to wash out the horrid taste of mayo.

"Seriously, Freddie! You're just begging for me to brush your teeth tonight with the special toothpaste, aren't you?"

"I hate that stuff!"

"Well you should've thought about that before letting the devil guide your tongue to that jar with that word."

"Mom, don't even think about showing me that after school special again!"

"I wasn't going to but now I think I will."

"OH _COME_ ONN!"

In this time of mother-son bonding, Sam never felt like a more perfect time to make her exit until now. No snappy comeback was needed for Freddie's mom. She felt that nothingness come over her again.

"Later," she barely made out in a whisper and headed for the door.

"Sam," Freddie called.

She shot up a peace sign from behind, but before she could open it, Freddie made his way in front of her closing in with an awkward hug.

Sam, trying to calculate her next move, kept her arms out in a 45 degree angle. "Uhh...Fred...ison?"

"I've decided that in this act of randomness, if you push me off and or trap me in a choke hold then everything with you _is_ okay and I can put my growing theories to a rest."

She paused. "Curious...what are your theories?"

She felt him shrug while looking away. "Uhh, I don't know... That time of the month?"

_Seriously_? What was with that and guys using it as the ultimate cause of a girl's distress? Well, at least that saved her from thinking up of something. Let's run with it, shall we? "Yes...yes, that is it exactly. And if you don't want the smell of my period blood all over you I suggest you—

"OKAaaAY!" and he jerked away, somehow dashing behind his couch before Sam could even turn around. "Well as long as that's fine then I'll see ya tomorrow!"

She pierced her lips together in an indifferent smile and lazily waved goodbye before heading for the door.

Looking at the time she saw it'd been about an hour. How was she even able to stomach that? An hour long stay at Casa de la Benson with that pterodactyl of a mother? And what was that whole college thing about, anyway? She swore that woman just adored any chance to pick her peach. Pshh, enough of that.

And that was that. And Sam headed home. Walking in her door she made sure to step over her mother who was passed out at the foyer. Everyone has a routine, and this was hers. _Okay, one two, one two_. She hauled her mother over her shoulder and threw her on her bed. _Off the shoes go, one two. Off the makeup goes, wipe wipe. Off the jacket goes._ Bra? Nah, she wasn't touching that. There's the covers, turn off the lights, and head back to her room for a night of more blahcity. She made sure to email Carly before turning off her lights.

She scoffed before shutting her eyes. Ha, as if Casa de la Puckett was any better.

* * *

**_A/N: This was an unfinished chapter I've had on my computer for months, and I've finally finished it today because I finally get how I'd want this story to pan out. See, when you're an author, it's your job to start it out but eventually ideas change on their own and you end up trying to work your ass off trying to oblige with the twists and turns. I could never finish this story the way I was going to a year, probably a few months ago. But now that I've come back to it maybe I can. It was easy finishing this, so again, let's just see how this goes. Thanks again to anyone that's reading this. It slaps my face with realization that people do in fact still look at this. I hope you enjoyed. _**


	10. Dig

**A/N: New Year's Resolution now changed to Halloween Resolution: freakin' update faster! Now then, enjoy the chapter.**

* * *

_"We all have someone that digs at us—at least we dig each other. So when sickness turns my evil up, at least you'll count on the me from yesterday."_

The blistering Seattle chill shook as Sam snickered from behind Freddie. Puffs of air jumped from between her lips as she talked. "Are you...singing?"

Freddie wiped his nose as a desperate cover. "No, I'm lyricing. That's different."

"And the category for best made up word goes tooo...Fredemame Benson. Come on down to accept your award!" followed by a snowball to great his face.

Freddie all but wiped it away. "I'm too cold to entertain you, Sam."

"I wouldn't exactly call _this_ entertaining."

"So why not us go home?"

"CUZ Frothy needs a proper burial. Those who partook in her death needs to be punished."

"I didn't kill-"

"NEEDS TO BE PUNISHED!"

Freddie rolled his eyes and started digging again. No matter what he refused to believe his car was responsible for them now having to dig a mini grave right in the middle of Seattle Park. Sam was the one grabbing at the wheel like a maniac. And besides, that cat was on Jesus status with the amount of times she's been brought back to life. Who knew his Honda would be the final blow to her lifeline?

Here he was again: making himself feel guilty over something that wasn't technically his fault. Twas that guilt that guided his hand to continue digging, despite how much the dropping temperature was taunting him.

He measured the depth of their hole with his shovel. "I'm pretty sure that's deep enough now, Sam. We've been digging for half an hour."

Sam trudged over in her snow boots and inspected the hole. "Good. I don't want her to be too close to the surface."

"She'll be closer to something, alright..."

Hard cardboard met his chest. "Hold the cat," Sam glared.

His fingers tensed up eying the box. He could smell death curling up in there enjoying itself. Freddie had asked Sam why not just take her to the vet but Sam heavily declined. He chucked it up to some weird cat sense and she said she just knew time was up. Peering over the box he could see her knelt beside the hole, sniffing away while staring into its depths. Tears, perhaps? Nah...probably just from the cold.

"Alright," she spoke finally, "give her to me."

That all knowing silence made its entrance and they knew now that talking time was over. Freddie handed her The Cat Formerly Known as Frothy and knelt beside her as they began the ceremony.

"Hey...Freddie," she barely spoke above a whisper. Freddie made a small note of how the side of her lip curled and how rosy her cheeks got from the friction of the cold. "Yeah?"

"You know that show Friends, right?"

"Yeah."

"Well, Frothy would always meow the theme song. Help me sing it, okay?"

He gave her a look. "How can a cat...?"

"Just shut up and do it!"

"Okay."

A minor chord struck in their heads and they began to sing to the best of their abilities—well, Sam did. Freddie wasn't sure if he had any extra of those.

"One...two..." she cued. The wind started to pick up as if it wanted to harmonize along. Freddie tried to ignore the nipping against his skin.

"_So no one told you life was gonna be this way..._"

_Clap Clap Clap Clap!_

"_Your life's a joke, you're broke. You're love life's DOA."_

"_It's like you're always stuck in second gear..."_

"_And it hasn't been your day, your week, your month, or even your year, but:_"

The two glanced at each other as they came in together at a faster pace. "_I'll be there for you, when the rain starts to pour! I'll be there for you, like I've been there before! I'll be there for you, cuz you're there for me tooooo..._"

and as her last note lingered on, she dropped down the box and gave it a peace sign before rising back up.

"Later, Frothy..."

Freddie kept his eyes cast down. Maybe his heart warmed up a little for the cold drifted to a fleeting memory. If he recalled correctly, Sam found Frothy at Seattle Park when she was about five, and already then that cat was pushing eight of her nine lives. Also, because of Frothy he got his first rabies shot, so in a way the scar he adorned on his left shoulder would always be in memory of her. Or if anything the scratch on his dashboard would be.

"Later, Frothy," he repeated and rose up after Sam. "Alright, ready to fill this back up, Sam?"

But nothing but the wind answered. He turned around. "Sam...? Sam? SAM!"

* * *

Time.

It was one of those enigmas that was virtually every flavor. Bitter, sweet, tangy, spicy…and ham for Sam's liking. Given time, and some other weird force of the universe, things in your life could either take a slow stroll or a crash course into something you've never imagined.

Something like loosing a childhood friend.

Or growing not-feelings for another.

Or sitting on another friend's beanie bag chair digging through old props and reminiscing about a certain webshow that molded said childhood.

Sam moaned to no one and stretched herself out on the chair. Why did she feel so weird once again...

* * *

Freddie stepped out of the elevator, and just as expected the runaway miss Princess Puckett was cozily reclining in the iCarly studio. He tore off his dripping gloves and slipped trying to remove his snow covered boots.

"_You!_" he growled.

"'Sup."

"_Don't you sup me_. You see these?" and he shoved his palms in her face. "These are blisters! Blisters from what, pray tell? Well, thank you kindly for asking, I appreciate that—from burrying YOUR dead cat!"

"Oh...thanks for that."

"Thanks..? THANKS...!" he formed his lips to say, but the game was all too predictable and he didn't feel like repeating it now.

"You know what, I'ma just sit and warm myself up before I decide whether or not to start yelling again, and he pulled up the nearest beanbag chair and wrapped his coat around him like a blanket. He eyed Sam from behind his hood after a minute passed by and still no sounds came out that mouth of hers.

Her brows were all squished together and all you could hear is the sound of her nails picking at each other, the occasional lip biting would ensue. Was there a noose somewhere dangling from the ceiling and crushing her throat? What was up with her?

"I know you're probably thinking what's up with me," she finally started, "but my cat did just die so I get a free pass to be weird, alright?"

He sat up, curious even more about what was going on in her head. "Oh, yeah okay..."

"And suddenly a wild _butt_ appears..." she narrarated for him.

"It's just that, I know it was Frothy and all; it just seems like, I don't know, a little something extra is adding to the melancholy."

"I don't get it."

"Kay," he sat up trying to explain. "Remember that day when we were going to the arcade and you, ya know, stole my car?"

"I did not steal your car," she rolled her eyes, causing him to roll his own.

"Okay then: remember that day when we were going to the arcade and you almost caused a traffic accident and made me get a ticket?"

"Nope, don't remember that either."

He narrowed his eyes to a seething stare. "_Remember that day_ when we were going to the arcade and you beat me at Pac Rat and I had to give you the rest of my fries?"

She smiled. "Oh yeah...good times..."

"UH HUH. And you told me in the car how your cat choked on one of your mom's stress balls and you thought that was the end for her. But then you were like if that day ever did come you'd be fine cuz you'd know she'd just ninja kick anyone who messed with her up in kitty heaven."

Her eyes stayed away. "Yeah, I remember that. And...?"

"And, what? Does kitty heaven not exist anymore?"

"No, it does. ...Plus Frothy'd have Krav Maga and Tae Kwon Do under her belt, so ha."

He chuckled. "See? That's nothing to get sad over."

She pulled her smile back in after staring at the ceiling for awhile. "Yeah, but it's one thing preparing for something, knowin it's gonna happen and all, and another thing actually livin it."

He sunk back down. "Yeah, I guess."

"Sooo I'll just get over it when I get over it." She turned her head away then returned to the flicking sound of her nails scratching back and forth. Freddie nodded, accepting the end of the conversation, trying to find some entertainment in the cracks of the brick.

Hm, two cracks just met at the edge of the wall and formed into one. How exciting. No, wait, they're separating again.

But during the time that he wasn't occupied in the riveting search for the nearest cracks, his brain pondered a bit on Sam's words. Knowing something's gonna happen is different than actually living it, huh? Was that all that was bothering her?

"Hey, I know what'll make you feel better," and he shot up, getting an odd exchange of glaces from Sam. "What?"

"Be right back," and he raced for the door only to return minutes later with a green bag filled with orange balls. Ah, success! He got a giggle out of her once she figured out his plan.

"Boomba?" she asked with a humorous raise of the brow.

"Ci. But for the safety of body parts everywhere, I have only issued use of these orange squishy balls instead."

She shook her head as she began to stand. "Pfft, way to pussy out, Benson."

"Be prepared to say that to my back once you're kissin it."

"That made no sense."

"Yeah I know, just play."

From all of the boring days that accumulated over the past few months, Sam and Freddie were able to finally come to terms with some structure in the game. Each player must turn around facing away from each other with three balls each. At the sound of the secret call word, each must then turn around as fast as one can and throw the ball. Whoever doesn't catch the ball gets hit and the victor must shout "BOOMBA!"

"Are you ready, Puckett?" Freddie challenged in his low-attempt-to-be-menacing voice.

"Just shut up and play, dude."

"Alrighty then. I'll let you pick the call word since uh...you're in grieving."

"Wise choice."

The two then turned their back and Sam started juggling her balls, thinking of the perfect moment to strike. "So you run into Spencer down there?"

"Yeah," began Freddie. "Weird, he was having some staring contest with this girl from downstairs."

"That teacher from before?"

"Nah. Curly, dirty blonde, eating something on a stick—_HEEEY_!"

All of a sudden the squishy orange ball pounded on his back. "HOW are you able to make that hurt?" he cried trying to massage away the pain.

"BOOMBA! It's a gift," she smiled.

"You know I hope you keep receipts somewhere cuz you're always given the strangest gifts."

"Guess the call word?"

He pulled his waist back and forth preparing for the next round. "Uh...was it blonde?"

"Nope."

"Stick?"

"Nada."

"Ooh! Eating!"

"Incorrect! Would you like to phone a friend?"

"_Ha-ha_. Okay, I think I got it, let's go."

But he didn't get it. It took him about three rounds and and multiple stings on his back to realize that the secret word was "a". Only a mind encased in a Sam head would think of something like that. But now that he was aware the game became more evenly matched, with him now being able to catch the balls before they would strike. A few minutes turned into an hour and eventually they forgot about the word all together, and as the balls dropped only leaving one the two's game just winded down to simple catch to occupy their conversations.

"So I gotta say Sam, I'm surprised."

"How?"

"I actually saw you at the library last week studying for your Trig final. Books and everything."

"Well remember that time where you bet I couldn't pass any of my classes with AP hanging over me?"

"Yeah."

"Better believe mama's still taking you up on that."

"Seriously? That was four months ago!"

"Which has given you four months to plan my surprise."

He smirked. "Alright, tell you what. Test scores come out in, what, two weeks? You get at least a B on both your Trig final _and _AP exam and I will be your personal chauffeur to the...annual Klikitat Meat Festival."

Her eyes widened. "You mean the BEST place in Washington to get discounts on steak?"

"Yup."

"You mean the ONLY place in Washington that _actually_ sells Scandinavian beef sticks?"

"Yuppers."

"Remember: lying to me about food is a sin in my religion."

"That is dearly noted."

He caught her smile and laughed as she tightly shook his hand in agreement. "You have yourself a deal, dude!"

But he noticed how her stare stayed after she let go. It was hard for him to see the puffy circles. So she was crying?

"Congratulations," she spoke again.

"Huh?"

"You've actually been cool today. Thanks."

He watched her take the ball away from his hand and started juggling. As usual after a compliment her eyes averted immediately, but it was still nice to get the aftereffects. The corner of her lip began to curl up.

"_And suddenly a wild grin appears,_" he now narrated. Smirking, she looked back and smirked too. And there they stood...smirking...tossing a ball...existing, just the way they were meant to.

They were interrupted by the vibration of Freddie's cell. He quickly tossed Sam the ball while answering the phone. "It's Carly," he whispered.

She held onto the ball for a moment. "Oh...well put her on speaker!"

"Hey, Carly," Freddie called setting his phone down. "You're on speaker with me and Sam."

"_Heey Hey Hey_!" Sam greeted in her Fat Albert impersonaton.

"_Hey Hey Hey_!" Carly exchanged with a What's Happenin' line.

"So what's up? How's Japan this time of year?" asked Freddie.

"_Awesomely cold! How's Seattle?"_

"Not-so awesome," Sam called. "So what's goin on, kiddo."

"_Nothing much, I'm about to go cake shopping with a friend but there was just something I had to tell you guys!"_

"Uh oh."

"Please don't tell me you're staying," said Freddie, "two weeks is two weeks Miss Shay."

"_Oh, on the contraire Senior Benson,"_ you could just hear her smile. Sam shook her head in amusement. _"You know that thing I do when I'm supposed to keep a secret but I end up blurting it out out of excitement?"_

"Yeah."

"Well aware."

"_Well I'm doing it now cuz guess what!"_

"What?"

"_I'M COMING HOME TOMORROW!_"

* * *

**A/N: To be continued. **

**Yeah I know, I suck for that. But hopefully next chapter makes up for it. I have been working on something else though this time. A little later I'll post a link on my profile to a video I made showcasing Nick's new premiers for next years' lineup-All fan-created by me. So I hope you liked! **


End file.
